Past Imperfect
by Miss Baby
Summary: When a chance discovery throws new light on the life of one of the greatest composers of the twentieth century, all that stands between dark forces from past and their ties to the present are two of the most unlikely champions in history. Will they succeed in uncovering the truth, or will the imperfections of the past prove to be too big of an obstacle for them to overcome?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1. **

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_Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds,  
Or bends with the remover to remove:  
O, no, it is an ever-fixèd mark, that looks on tempests and is never shaken._

_William Shakespeare, Sonnet 116_

**Prologue**

"Do you think this is it?" The same impatience I felt shone through in his voice as he hovered close but, for once, the proximity of another body to mine didn't bother me as much as it used to.

"It has to be," I muttered, my hands trembling as I opened the rigid leather cover, the leaves of the ancient books rifling under my fingers as I searched.

And found nothing.

There was not even a clue about where we could find the treasure we were so desperately looking for in the place we knew for so sure we would have found it.

"It has to be here," I repeated, feeling a slight hint of disappointment, as the pages gave away nothing but their time old wisdom. "It has to be. He said so…himself...in his own hand." I was starting to get slightly frantic, knowing that if we didn't find what we came here for, our mission to protect the true legacy of Johannes van Leyden would be nothing more than common burglary.

"Try the cover," Edward suggested, his eyes shooting towards the door to check for unwanted company, as he fought his own urge to rip the book from my hands and tear through it as I knew he would have been doing had it not been for the stubborn historian by his side.

If anyone had told me months ago that I would have been breaking and entering into the house of a member of the Manhattan elite to engage in the possible theft of a historical document I would have laughed until I cried.

But here I was, fighting my own desperate urge to rip away the pages as my fingers blindly felt along the cover of the Van Leyden family Bible, my lips sucking in a sharp gasp as stocked along what felt like a document hidden within the cover.

"I think…" I bit my lip, unable to grasp the enormity of the moment as my eyes searched and found Edward's right as a loud bang drew our attention away from each other and the book, the door flying open as the one man we'd been trying to avoid crashed into the room.

Somehow, in my state of shock, I managed to react quickly, sticking to the plan we'd come up with the night before as I pushed the Bible underneath my clothes, wincing as the unyielding ancient cover scraped along my ribcage as I tried to get my legs to move.

"Run, Bella!" Edward yelled, my legs finally obeying his command as the sound of two bodies crashing against each other behind me was the final thing I heard before I sprinted out of the library, the faces and sounds of surprise as the party guests parted to let me through drowning out the noise of the fight upstairs.

_Please let him be okay_, I prayed, clutching the Bible to my chest as I was finally outside, my feet never stopping as I ran along the crowded sidewalks until I was out of breath, my chest hurting both from the strain of exertion and the fear that something had happened to Edward. More than ever I wished that I'd been born brave; courageous enough to go back and save him from whatever that despicable madman would do if he got his hands on him, tears pouring down my face as my feet kept moving away while my heart lagged behind.

"Bella!" My crushed heart leapt violently in my chest as he finally rounded the corner onto his street, his lip bleeding and a bruise starting to form around his left eye.

"You're okay!" I whimpered, my lips trembling as finally the stress of the past few hours caught up with me. I reached out, my hand only catching cool air and drips of water as he continued towards me at a steady pace, his own shoulders sagging with relief as he too checked me for visible signs of harm. "Thank God! You're okay. Did he hurt you?"

"I'll live," he shrugged. "Did you get it?"

I nodded, pulling the book from underneath my jacket. "Do you think he knows we took something?"

"Who knows?" Another shrug as we started to make our way up the steps to the Cullen family townhouse. "Who cares?"

I know I probably should have cared but, given everything I knew about the document, I suspected this Bible contained and the two people who'd given their lives to make sure it didn't fall into the wrong hands, I found that sometimes necessity knows no law.

And after all, was it really stealing when finally, after almost a century had passed, Johannes' final legacy would finally end up in the hands of the people who were supposed to have it all along?

This was no crime.

I smiled as I looked up at him. For the first time since he'd come up with our harebrained scheme, I was starting to accept the fact that he had been right, my hands trembling as I handed him the book. "I think you should be the one to open it."

He nodded, drops of water dripping from the ends of his hair as his fingers ran along the spine of the heavy book in a light caress. "Do you really think it's in here?"

"It has to be," I whispered, anticipation and emotion over-clouding everything else as I watched Edward's sure fingers open the cover and glide along the rigid inside of it, his breath stopping and his face splitting into a surprised grin as they came across a bump in the otherwise pristine paper binding the sacred words from their ornate leather cover.

"I think…" He muttered astonished, my heart pounding in my throat as our eyes locked; both wide with anticipation and the magnitude of this moment. "I think this _is_ it."

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_**Thoughts?**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

* * *

_**Thank you, everyone, for giving this story a shot! **_

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Purgatory: (in the belief of Roman Catholics and others) a condition or place in which the souls of those dying penitent are purified from venial sins, or undergo the temporal punishment that, after the guilt of mortal sin has been remitted, still remains to be endured by the sinner.

**Purgatory**

**Edward. **

It was on the morning after the night I'd made a solemn vow to mend my ways, that I found myself waking up in prison. Even I would have agreed this might not be the best fucking way to start my resolution.

_Shit_.

I groaned, scratching the back of my head while stretching my stiff muscles, flashes of what had happened last night shot back into my brain like hot pokers. Still trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings and wondering what the hell I was doing in a dingy, smelly holding pen with about ten other fuckers who were probably asking themselves the same thing, my attention was caught by a sturdy–as in so fucking sturdy I wondered whether or not he could fit through the door–cop dangling his keys in front of the door.

"Cullen!" he barked, looking at the scraggly mess of drunks and dope heads in front of him. "Get your ass to the door. They need you upstairs."

_Cullen_. God, I hated that name almost as much as I hated the man who'd given it to me. Or cursed me with it was more like it.

I rose from my spot, groaning as my body still protested every goddamn movement I made, and made my way to the door where I was grabbed (and not so fucking gently, I might add) by two bailiffs to be taken upstairs for arraignment.

Nothing new.

Been there, done that and all that shit.

Apparently the two bailiffs thought so too because as we made our way through the bowels of the courthouse, they kept chatting about all kinds of mundane things like homemade remedies for teething babies and the best way to get rid of any kinds of weeds imaginable. All in all it was a very educational trip.

Not that I gave a fucking shit about any of that.

As soon as we reached the little waiting room located next to the side of the adjoining courtroom I was pretty much left to my own devices along with the other punks waiting to be brought before the judge. At least the silence managed to defog my brain a little because it was time to figure out what the fuck happened last night to make me end up in there.

**oOo**

"_Mase!" a gruff voice sounded from somewhere behind me. "I never imagined I'd run into you out here! What happened? Did they run out of booze on the Upper East side?" _

"_Black," I grinned, looking up from my pint as we bumped fists. "Rough night?" _

"_Don't remind me," he smirked as he sat down on the other side of the booth, signaling at the waitress to come over. "I never thought teaching a bunch of little leaguers how to pitch a damn ball would be so tiresome. What are you drinking?" _

"_What does it look like?" I snorted. _

"_Touché," Jacob grinned before turning his attention to the waitress who was making her approach. "Two more of these, sweetheart." The fact that he managed to sneak in a wink, a quick ass grab and a slick smile, the girl completely ate it all up; which had me watching the whole exchange in fucking awe. There were only few fuckers who could pull off a stunt like that without getting laughed at or punched in the balls, and apparently Jacob Black was one of them. Not that the waitress was likely to play hard to get, though, judging from the way her tits almost fell out of the top she was wearing and her waistline was so high, every man could practice amateur gynecology. _

_Not that I was complaining. _

"_Years of practice," Jake chuckled in reply to my look as he sat back; his eyes were either on the ass or her tits. I'd be willing to bet he'd be plowing her in the bathroom before the hour was up no matter how fucking disgusting it was in there. "So, anything happening on your side of town tonight?" _

"_Not much," I growled. "Garrett and Kate are still busy and Tanya's got that big audition tomorrow so she's not going to be doing anything that could put her fucking voice in danger." _

_With most of the regular gang either freshly graduated or in the final stage of their degree, things had become incredibly boring around my neck of the woods, not that I begrudged any of my friends the gainful employment they had worked so hard for in the least._

_However, with Garrett joining the ranks of the New York Philharmonic and Kate putting in overtime to get to a chance with Swan Lake and convince the world that she was the next Margot fucking Fonteyn, I was running fast out of drinking buddies. _

_And I hadn't even started on my evil twin. Tanya was set for greatness, we'd all known that the moment she'd first opened her mouth. With the set of pipes that girl had one her, it was no surprise that bookers and operatic societies from within and outside the US were clamoring for her to join._

_Which, of course, made the complete and utter failure of my career even more obvious. Unless you called teaching little kids how to play 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' on a rundown old piano at a the community center in the sticks a career. I didn't. _

"_I hear Sam's throwing a party for his new fuck buddy," Jacob mused. "Wanna tag along?" _

"_Sure," I shrugged. I didn't like Sam. Hell, to be honest, I hated the asshat's guts, but drinking his beer would be better than sitting out here by myself, feeling miserable when I could be getting drunk on somebody else's dime. "I'm ready when you are, unless you want to score first?" _

_Jake grinned, slamming his beer back in one gulp, as I nodded at the waitress, who was still studiously following our every fucking move Jake made even though she tried to look distracted. "Nah, too fucking easy, man!" _

_Part of the reason why we got along was that we were both in the same boat. College dropout like me, he was mooching off his sister while trying to get his feet back on the ground, financially. Not that his job at the local garage did much towards that. No, as far as Jacob was concerned, the real money was coming in through his side job: lending his cousin Sam a helping hand in the drug trade._

_Sam was one of those arrogant motherfuckers who thought that just because he had his hand on the good stuff, he got to tell you what to do. And seeing as I was about as stubborn as they came, and not about to take orders from some piece of shit dope dealer, that meant that he and I didn't get along, which, by the way, didn't mean I wouldn't be doing a few lines in about half an hour though. _

_Never look a gift-fucking-horse in the mouth and all that._

_The party was already in full swing when we got there, music blaring through the sound system and people spaced out all over the place, hidden behind a smoke screen of smoke from cigarettes and weed._

"_Where's Sam?" Jake asked some loser I vaguely recalled seeing before._

"_Bedroom," the guy snickered. "The fucker couldn't even keep his hands off his new bitch long enough to say hello to everyone." _

"_Did he leave anything?" Jake snickered. "I mean…it's the least he could do, seeing as he's not planning on sharing the girl." _

"_Here ya go." The guy tossed us a half empty bottle of Jack as he took a swig from his Heineken. "Don't know about the rest though. I heard Sam left some good stuff out on the kitchen table, but it wouldn't surprise me if those dickwads in there have already used it all." _

"_I'll go see," Jake snorted, taking a big gulp out of the bottle before handing it to me. "And if all else fails, I still have my own stash, though I'd hate to lose money over this. You want anything?" _

"_Nah, I'm good," I shrugged, the whiskey scorching down my fucking throat making my mind feel blissfully foggy. "Maybe later." _

**oOo**

And that was when everything must have gone to hell for me, though there were only fragments I could remember of what happened after that. I remembered Jake finally talking me into buying some weed off of him, which probably explained why everything was still a blur, and the sounds of Sam banging the hell out of his new girlfriend in the room next door getting louder as time went on.

"Ah, fuck!" I muttered as I suddenly remembered how I'd made some crappy dope-head talk about the girl to the wrong guy. Then again, how the hell was I supposed to know the fuckhead was her brother?

Judging from the swelling in my face and the dried up blood on my shirt, her brother hadn't taken me calling his sister a whore in a good way (even if it might be the truth) which probably explained why the next thing I knew the whole fucking room was filled with cops and I was caught with my hands tied behind my back.

"Motherfucker!" I growled as I suddenly remembered what happened. "The fucker set me up!" Jake had always been such a fucking pussy when it came to his drug dealing friends that it shouldn't have been such a surprise to me that he picked them over me come punching time. Still…I'd fucking trusted him.

"Pipe down, Cullen!" one of the bailiffs yelled before he went back to a _thrilling_ discussion about how to get rid of dirt stains in a shag pile carpet. _What is it with these idiots? Do they do this just to fuck with our minds? And talking about a mind fuck….how the hell did Jacob manage to plant his stash on me? And why? Why the fuck didn't he have my back? _

Before I was able to think on that some more, some guy came into the room and called the next case. Given the state I was in he might just as well have hammered into my brain in Morse code with a sledge hammer. The effect would have been about the same.

"Case number 295950," the official called, which apparently was the code for the bailiffs to drag me into the courtroom and deposit my ass in front of the judge. "The people versus Edward Antony Cullen."

"Edward," Jonah Jenks, who had been handling the family's legal affairs for as long as I could remember, nodded curtly as he appeared practically from out of nowhere to take his place beside me.

Well, that answered the question on whether or not Dad knew of my arrest. "Jenks," I greeted in return. "How's the wife?"

His lips turned into a small scowl, probably about the same time as he remembered how his wife had caught me rounding third with his daughter a couple of months ago. He hadn't been too pleased about that, even if – as I recalled – his daughter seemed pretty happy when I left her.

"What are the charges?" the judge asked, thereby kicking off the official part of the arraignment.

Between the district attorney and whatever tool was sent in his place summing up the charges against me, and the judge giving me the evil eye, I was really starting to get pissed off. _What the fuck happened to innocent until proven guilty?_

If I had actually done the things they were accusing me of, I would definitely be standing there with my tail between my legs and my head hanging in shame, begging for them to take mercy on this poor little rich boy gone wrong.

But seeing as I was innocent there would be none of that.

"How does the defendant plea?" the judge asked after he'd heard enough.

"Not guilty, your honor," Jenks answered for me, probably because he was sure I wouldn't be able to get the words out without at least one fucking expletive attached to them. He may have been right.

I still barely managed to resist the urge to add my own little remarks at the end of that sentence. I had the feeling a 'damn straight' wasn't going to be appreciated in this setting. After all, Jenks' eyes had practically begged me to keep my mouth shut before this whole clusterfuck of a Kangaroo Court started off.

So, I did what any other Upper East Side kid would do when finding himself on the receiving end of the law: I molded my face into the picture of innocence and kept my thoughts to myself while the judge studied my case and asked if there were any 'notices' to take into account. I was snapped right out of my blissfully spaced out state, though, when I heard the district attorney demand a bail of a hundred grand. What the fuck?

"You have to be kidding me!" Jenks snorted and for once I agreed with the guy. "It's not like the kid runs with the Ortega's!"

"That will be enough, Mister Jenks," the judge warned him. "Bail is set for eighty thousand dollars."

The sound of the gavel coming down slammed straight through my head. The whole thing was over in less than ten minutes but I'd be lying if I didn't admit it had impressed the hell out of me.

Before I had time to ponder the enormity of the mess I found myself in, I was dragged back out of the courtroom, a flash of blond hair sticking out above a dark gray Ermenegildo Zegna suit catching my attention right before the bailiffs dragged me back to the particular circle of hell known as Riker's Island where I would have to wait until someone posted bail for me.

Thankfully there was no doubt on my mind that I could count on the massive and everlasting guilt trip my dad had been on ever since he had caused my mom to crash her nice little Beemer into a tree after she'd found him balls deep inside some random whore.

Fortunately Daddy Dearest had been smart enough not to join Jenks on his quest to bail me out, though, as I sat on a little seat, strapping my Rolex around my wrist and tying my shoelaces while Jenks handled the paperwork, I was beginning to fear that a lecture could not be evaded.

Could it get any worse?

"Come on, Edward," Jenks spoke in that treacherously soothing voice. "I'll give you a ride home." The look in his eyes showed me he wasn't going to take no for an answer. This was going to be one hell of a long drive.

"Fine," I finally grumbled, sliding into the leather seat of some generic town car. "Corner of 60th and…"

"Columbus," Jenks added. "I know."

He had the nerve to laugh at my surprise. "What, do you think your father doesn't know where you've been living for the last two years? You should have chosen someplace else than your best friend's apartment if you wanted to remain inconspicuous. Now…let's get down to business."

I groaned, resting my head against the seat, the coolness of the leather doing little to alleviate the pounding in my head. Not with the idiot next to me droning on and on about what I might expect when this case would actually go to trial. Just what I needed: being told off.

"I don't think you realize how serious all of this is!" my lawyer scolded.

I shrugged. "I'm sure you'll get me out of it. You did before."

"That was before you upgraded to the hard stuff!" He held up his hand to stop me before I could bark out my reply. "I know…I know…you didn't do it this time. Just like all those times before."

"You don't seem so convinced," I snorted.

"Can you blame me?" he challenged, his face a silent reminder of all the times he had to bust me out for fighting, smoking or just being in the wrong fucking place at the wrong fucking time.

"Yeah, well, but this time I'm innocent," I snarled, "so it should be a walk in the park for you."

"You and I both know that's not true, Edward," Jenks sighed. "You know what they said in there. As far as the district attorney is concerned this case is a closed book. They'll offer a plea, but I am willing to bet that it's going to involve serving time."

"Which isn't something I'm going to do," I warned.

Jenks actually had the audacity to roll his eyes at me. "I know," he sighed, "but unless that friend of yours is going to come forward and tell the truth during his police interrogation – which is something I very much doubt, given what you told me about him – you are going to have to get used to the idea."

"Fuck!" I growled, rubbing my face with my hands, knowing that fucking pussy was far too scared of Sam to ever come clean about who the dope really belonged to.

"Now of course I'm going to do my best to get you out of this mess," he continued as if my little outburst hadn't happened, "but you are going to have to be a lot more forthcoming when it comes to providing me with details of all your dealings with this young man, Mister…"

"Black," I growled, my fingers flexing and clenching as I hissed out his name. "Jacob Black."

"Ah, yes," Jenks nodded, pulling a little notepad out of his inner pocket and writing down the name. "And you have to promise me you'll lay low for a while. If we're going to pull this off we can't have you attracting the attention of New York's finest again."

"Fine," I sighed, "so I'll try to tone it down a notch."

"You're going to have to do a whole lot more than just tone it down, son," Jenks warned. "If you get so much as a parking ticket slapped on your record between now and the end of this trial, the District Attorney is going to know about it, and I can tell you he's going to be very pleased since you'd be making his job so much easier."

"Right." I looked out the fucking window, feeling even more screwed than I had when I woke up this morning. And not in a good way.

"I'll tell your father you made it home safe," Jenks sighed as we finally pulled up in front of my building. "You might want to give him a call and say_ thanks_. After all, the man did bail you out."

"His mistake," I shrugged, slamming the car door shut behind me.

It wasn't as if paying eighty thousand dollars would suddenly put the asshole in the clear again. All the money in the world couldn't wash away the shit he'd done to me.

To _mom_.

There was no amount of penance that could ever wash away his sins.

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_**Thoughts?**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

* * *

Exile: removal of a national from his or her country, or the civilized parts of it, for a long period of time or for life. Exile may be a forceful expulsion by the government or a voluntary removal by the citizen, sometimes in order to escape punishment.

**Exile**

**Bella. **

I didn't want to be here.

As the flight attendant called everyone to attention, announcing that our flight would soon land at New York's JFK airport, my heart sank as I thought about all the friends I'd left behind. What would they be doing now?

If the weather was still holding up, Jelle and Koen would probably be on their way to the beach, their surfboards strapped to the roof of their rundown, old-school Volkswagen Beetle while Marieke probably stuck closer to home, trying to finish up her dissertation and yelling at Nina and Jeffrey to keep the noise down as they held another impromptu jam-session in the backyard. I missed them and the peace and quiet of our safe little home in Leiden, a town about half an hour away from Amsterdam.

In the Big Apple, I would be virtually alone, and though the solitude was something I preferred, as the plane slowly descended I could feel the panic of being so isolated and vulnerable in the big city creeping up on me. Well, I wasn't really alone. I had someone, even if it was someone who I hadn't seen in years and who all my hopes for safety and companionship now rested. The thought scared the wits out of me, especially because of what happened in the past when I'd put my faith in _one_ person.

Shooting off a quick text message to my mom after the plane had landed, letting her know I was back on American soil and would call her as soon as I was settled, I made my way to baggage claim and beyond, the crowdedness of the airport already setting my senses on high alert as I clutched my bags, my subconscious already halfway towards a full blown panic attack.

_You can do this, Bella. It's been three years since you fell into his trap…Not everyone is like _him_. _

_He_, of course, was the reason why I couldn't go back home; why Forks and, for that matter, the whole West Coast, were far too close to Seattle for me to even contemplate moving back there, even if I felt horrible for disappointing my parents. I knew they'd had their hearts set on having me back under their roof again even if my name would be forever tainted by scandal and people would stare and talk until it would become impossible for my dad to carry out his duties as the local police chief.

I couldn't, though, and besides, the offer Caius made me was too good to pass up on. Even if the rest of my being in New York filled me with an enormous dread, the prospect of being able to work on so many unknown documents that had at one point been touched by the maestro himself…it was exciting. _A dream coming true._ A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that had fallen into my lap. _Me_, a lowly Ph.D. candidate who barely knew _anything_.

"Bella!" I startled; my heart pounding in my throat as panic soared, only to deflate into relief again as soon as I spotted Mike standing by, holding a huge pink sign with my name dashed across it in purple glitter.

Mike never did anything half-assed. And it seemed being gay was just another example of his very thorough dedication.

"You've changed," he deadpanned as I barely managed to avoid a hug. _He may be gay but he's still a man… _ Remembering the shy, scrawny kid who'd been in my class ever since our first day at Kindergarten, the contrast with the toned, vivacious man in front of me couldn't be more pronounced. "You never used to be this buff…or this outgoing."

Mike grinned, brushing his hand over the smooth polyester of his multicolored shirt worn over skinny jeans and shoes with toes so pointy they would take someone's eye out. "You didn't."

I smiled back, relieved that to some, at least, I was still that same plain old Bella Swan from Forks. "It's so good to see you again, Mike. And thank you so much for…"

"Shush!" He stopped me. "You're doing me a favor, remember? If it wasn't for you taking over my lease, I never could have afforded moving in with Tyler."

"Right," I nodded, following his lead as he took my luggage and shepherded me out of the building and on towards a waiting black Lincoln town car. "How are you going to explain your move to your parents, by the way?"

"Tyler's just a friend who lives in Manhattan and had a spare room to rent out." Mike shrugged, though the way he ducked his head and slumped his shoulders told me just how much he was still struggling with the two lives he lived. In New York, he could finally be the Mike Newton I'd always known him as: bright in more ways than one, vivacious and very openly gay, whereas in Forks his parents would never accept him if he came out of the closet.

And their approval of him meant too much to Mike to ever risk it, even if it killed him to deny his true self.

We'd lost touched after graduation but when I told my mom I was moving out to New York, she managed to get his number from Mrs. Newton and we'd picked up right where we left off in high school.

He was still my friend, even after all the years that had flown by, and I had a feeling I was going to need him more than ever. After all, I'd done this whole 'moving to a place I'd never been before' thing before so I knew how hard it was going to be. Especially since I was back on American soil and sharing a continent with the man who'd driven me away from home and everything I knew almost three years ago to the date.

"Look!" Mike pulled me out of my gloomy thoughts as the town car entered a huge iron bridge, my eyes widening as they followed his finger to where a skyline doomed up across the river that I'd seen so many times before I could almost dream it.

But never in the flesh.

Never from so close.

"It's just like on television," I muttered, my eyes glued to the windows as more buildings I recognized started to pop into view. "It's amazing."

"It is, isn't it?" Mike grinned. "I know just how you're feeling right now, so I kinda had the driver to take the scenic route to the apartment instead of the shortest one. I didn't think you'd really mind."

I shook my head, resisting the urge to crawl over him to get the best views from the other window. _Too close. Too much._ But even from my own side of the car, the city looked magnificent, rising up from the water in all its rough, urban glory. "I can't believe I'm going to be living here."

"Well, the apartment's still a good a thirty minute commute into the city," Mike tempered her enthusiasm, "but even out there in Norwood you can still feel that special buzz."

"You really love this city, don't you?" Bella smiled, tearing her eyes away from the view just enough to look at her friend as he nodded.

"It's given me the freedom I'd never dreamed I would have and so much more," Mike gushed. "I can't wait to show you all the ins and outs."

"I can't wait." Hearing Mike's words of praise finally stirred something inside of me I'd been waiting to feel all along: excitement. Maybe it was just his company and endless enthusiasm making me feel not so alone anymore, or maybe it was the buzz that seemed to hum from the city's every pore, but much of this morning's gloom was already starting to fade.

Besides, with the city being so big and the huge mass of people inhabiting it affording me the anonymity and safety of the crowdedness I craved so much, the danger of running into _him_, even though I knew he was still living on the other side of the continent, was starting to become more and more unlikely.

_Yes, I will be safe here. Safe and happy._ It was a resolve as much as it was a real, achievable prospect but even the thought of it made me feel oddly optimistic, a genuine smile was on my face as I re-immersed myself in Mike's bright picture of the city.

After a while of seeing nothing but buildings I'd come to know so well from various TV shows, the plush, green of Central Park started to give way to the lesser known parts of the city; the buildings slowly losing some of their skyscraping height and almost startling opulence as we traveled through Harlem and into the Bronx until they were right there.

"Home sweet home," Mike grinned as our driver moved to open the door. "It's a pretty safe neighborhood, actually. And the neighbors across the street are pretty quiet."

My answering smile was tight at best, my eyes briefly shifting to the gate, separating Woodlawn Cemetery from the public sidewalk. "I guess it's nice to have so much green on your doorstep."

"You'll get used to it." He didn't seem hurt when I ignored his hand as we made it up the front steps to the apartment building, his other hand clenched around my heavy suitcase as I carried the rest of my luggage into the building. "Ready to enter your new domain?" I had to grin at the way Mike was building up suspense, his hand hovering over the lock of an unassuming door on an ordinary hallway lined with doors identical to mine.

"Just open the door, Mike!" I giggled as his hand started to tremble lightly from being suspended in such an awkward position.

"Okay, so before we go in…" I groaned as Mike kept stalling, though I guess I should have noted that there was actually some progress considering the key was wedged in the lock. "You know how my parents still think I'm in business school while I'm actually studying interior design right now, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I think you might have mentioned that about twelve hundred times already."

"Bitch!" Mike joked, making a move to jab me in the side but thinking better of it right at the last moment. _He's already starting to catch up, poor guy_. "Anyway…I thought it would be a nice school project to kind of do the place up a little before you moved in. You know? Changed the curtains, and added a bit of color and all that."

"Yeah?" I was starting to get a little apprehensive as he nervously twisted the key in the lock. "You didn't spend a lot of money, did you?"

"Nah." He shrugged. "We can usually get our hands on stuff way cheaper than if you buy retail and besides, you'll be amazed at the stuff you can find at garage sales."

I smiled shaking my head as I fought the tears threatening to spill from my eyes. _He went through all this trouble…just for me._

"So," he fidgeted. "I hope you'll like it since I'm kinda getting graded on all this, and I wanted to ask if you would write something about customer satisfaction…"

My mouth fell open when he finally opened the door to reveal the most perfect place I'd ever seen. He'd clearly gone overboard in his design but not in a way that made the place seem cold and unwelcoming. In fact, it was quite the opposite, with purple oriental touches brightened the room and exposed brick of the walls. "I…I love it, Mike. Thank you."

"Word to the wise, don't lift the throw on the sofa," he spoke grinning from ear to ear as he pointed at the sofa. "They say sometimes that one man's trash is another man's treasure? Not in this case…" He shuddered, looking at the sofa as it were some kind of man-eating monster. "Don't be afraid though…I've cleaned it up to the best of my abilities and there are at least five throws under the one you'll be sitting on. You'll be safe."

"Noted," I nodded, my eyes drawn to the window as I took in the view. From above, it was pretty amazing; the greens of the trees only broken by the distant brick and concrete of the houses on the other side of Bronx Rover Parkway, though when you looked a little closer, it became inescapable that those greens were still interspaced with little marble and stone tributes to lives lost.

"There're some pretty well known people buried there," Mike remarked, his voice right behind me making me jump. "It may sound a little morbid but it's actually nice to take a walk out there and appreciate all the fine art devoted to the dead. It's…peaceful there, which is more than you can say for pretty much anywhere else in this city."

Before I could say that, yes, it did sound a little morbid, we were interrupted by a loud squeal coming from a small and slightly intimidating looking woman with pitch black hair and Mediterranean–possibly Italian–features. "Michael Everett Newton!" she barked, defining everything I knew about hardass Italian women. "Wouldn't the first lesson you taught your friend about New York be to always close the damn door behind her? I could have been anyone!"

"Angela!" Mike squealed, outwardly unaffected by the scary girl's lecture as he rushed out to scoop her up in a hug so theatrical it looked like it came straight out of an old Hollywood movie. "Baby! How are you?"

"And here we go with the acting!" she chuckled, though I did notice that she responded to his embrace with an eagerness that implied a deeply rooted friendship. "Aren't you going to introduce me to my new neighbor?"

"Of course!" Mike beamed as he stood between me and the new girl as if he was a stewardess getting ready to point out the emergency evacuation procedure. "Isabella Swan, meet Angela Cheney."

"Hi, Isabella," Angela smiled, her open and friendly expression making me want to get to know her better even in spite of myself. "Or should I say '_Welkom in New York_'?"

"You know Dutch?" I cried, her almost perfect pronunciation of those four little words of welcome leaving no room for doubt.

"Only a little," she chuckled back, somehow instinctually picking up on my aversion to close contact. "I teach Italian–my mother tongue–over at the community center and one of my fellow teachers taught me a few words but other than 'welkom', 'dankjewel' and 'tot ziens', I wouldn't know a Dutch word from a Japanese one."

"You know enough to be polite," I shrugged.

"Yeah, well, I guess that's something," Angela beamed back. "Which actually brings me to the reason I'm here."

"Oh, no!" Mike teasingly groaned. "She wants something! Look out, Bella, before you know it, you'll have signed away your firstborn along with everything else of value you possess. The woman has some scary mojo going on that makes people do whatever the hell she wants them to!"

"Shut up!" Angela huffed before turned her attention back to me. "So the teacher I was talking about totally bailed which leaves us with a problem over at the Center and since Mike couldn't stop about how good your Dutch was…"

"Oh," I muttered, color draining from my face as I put two and two together. The thought alone of having a whole class full of people staring at me…expecting something of me made me break out into a cold sweat.

"I told her you'd be mad to pass up the opportunity to show off your skills," Mike added, giving me a pointed glare to keep me from chickening out, "and seeing as we had nothing planned tomorrow afternoon anyway, it will be an excellent opportunity for you to get to know the neighborhood."

I knew he was only trying to help, but the thought of getting up in front of the class almost made me faint. So I did the thing any woman in my position would have done. "I guess I could do it," I surrendered with a sigh. "My job doesn't start until next Monday anyway."

"Your job?" Angela asked, her excitement at having found a replacement speaking clearly from her voice. "What do you do?"

"She works at the archives," Mike answered for me with barely concealed disdain. "I can't imagine why anyone under fifty would ever want to work in a stuffy place like that!"

"And I can't see the appeal of sucking up to the rich and famous in the hopes of getting a job redesigning their toilets or couches!" I spat back.

"Fierce!" Mike giggled. "Those few years away from home have really put some spice into you, girl! I wonder if Chief Swan knows what happened to the sweet girl he raised."

_If only he knew about the true reason that inspired my change!_ "So, what's the neighborhood like?" I asked, trying to shift the conversation to a more appealing subject.

"It's pretty nice, actually," Angela chimed in eagerly. "As you can see we're not too bothered by our neighbors across the street." I chuckled as she waved at the window. "And as far as the occupants of this building go…" she went on, "they are a pretty cool crowd actually. Mostly young people like us, a lot of students and young professionals who aren't yet making the big bucks."

I nodded, relieved that at least Charlie's vision of me living in some kind of dump filled with crack addicts and gang members hadn't come true.

"You've got the Blacks living down the hall," Angela continued, "who are really nice people, especially Leah. I don't know Jake all that well, and frankly, I find him kind of scary but with a sister as nice as Leah and that adorable little boy of hers, I doubt he could be _that_ bad."

"He's nice, actually," Mike added with a faint blush that made me wonder whether 'nice' was applicable to his character or just his looks.

"And then, of course, there's my husband Ben and me," Angela continued. "Ben's the building's super so we live on the ground floor. You should drop by once you're settled and my in-laws have moved out again."

"You're married?" I asked. Angela didn't even look old enough to drive, let alone get married.

"I know," she chuckled. "Awfully young, huh? Though, I'm older than I look. It's a good thing I'm not one for clubbing or I'd be going crazy getting carded at every darn entrance…"

She rolled her eyes at Mike, stopping him before he could make some kind of crass remark, which I was sure he was dying to do. "It was the one condition my dad wouldn't budge on. Either I got married or I got my own place to live."

"Her dad's a minister," Mike clarified, "so living in sin wasn't an option."

"Right," I nodded, my head almost exploding with all the new information that had been crammed into it.

"Why don't we give Bella a couple of hours to get used to her new surroundings?" Angela suggested, obviously sensing how overwhelmed I was. "I'm sure Tyler's missing his car by now."

"Oh!" I'd never seen Mike change color so fast; that was usually my trait. "Do you mind, Bells?"

"Not at all," I immediately replied, glad to be getting some space to think…and cry. "Go! Say hello to your new stud for me!" They left almost immediately, their chipper voices fading long after I'd closed the door behind them, until all what was left was a deafening, crushing silence, broken only by my muffled sobs. It was the loneliness that suddenly got to me…the realization that I was once again all alone in a strange city, at the mercy of others.

For as long as I could remember, I'd always wanted to be invisible. First, as part of a childish quest to be able to sneak up on people and see what they were up to when they thought they weren't being watched. Then, to escape the herculean 'protection' my father had imposed upon me being the local chief of police and 'knowing what all those boys were thinking when they saw a pretty girl like me', and finally live the life my friends had told me about: the life of a normal teenage girl. Finally, because being invisible meant that I could escape the whispers and judging looks following the aftermath of my brush in with _him_…with Professor Banner. I shuddered, thinking back on those black days.

And so there I was, all but invisible again. A small girl alone in a big city. _How much more invisible could I get?_ Still, now that I was in New York–invisible and all–the thought alone scared me to death. Because being invisible also meant being lonely…and vulnerable.

I managed to pick myself up again after an hour or so and decided that, since it was getting late, it was about time to stock up on some groceries because as much time as Mike had spent doing up the apartment, the fridge was completely empty.

Knowing I needed to get out–both to find something edible and to preserve what was left of my own sanity–I went out on the streets, the foreignness of my surroundings, even though they weren't so strange from what I knew, making me feel disoriented as I stumbled through the streets surrounding my new home. I managed to find a small grocery store a few streets from my new home and bought as many things I could carry. Of course, as always with these things, I purchased way too much and, by the time I stumbled back up the stairs to my apartment, my arms were hurting like hell as well as completely wiped out, though I guessed that had something to do with the fact that I was still on Amsterdam time.

"Well, fuck you, Jacob Black!" and angry male voice yelled as soon as I reached the landing. "I hope you fucking rot in hell!"

I looked up to see a man storming out of an apartment a few doors down from mine. A _very_ handsome man. Well, apart from the ugly look on his face. My breath stopped in my throat and my body froze when he came closer, storming through the hallway as if even the air surrounding him offended him. He looked a bit like James Dean in _Rebel Without a Cause_ with his unruly reddish-brown hair and pale skin, topped off with a faded jeans and leather jacket combo.

Of course this rebel–whether with or without a cause–had no idea I was standing there, gaping at him, or he probably wouldn't have run into me with a speed that send my apples flying across the hallway.

For a moment all I could register was a musky smell of sandalwood and leather, and warmth that seemed to radiate from his body to mine. The fact that I wasn't freaking out, like I usually did when a man so much as brushed his hand against mine, left me completely stunned.

"Jesus Christ! Can't you fucking look where you're going?" the man growled, a pair of scorching green eyes glaring daggers into my head as he picked himself up from the floor, paying no attention whatsoever to the state I was in. In fact, he'd looked almost scared, like he'd seen a ghost or something. "Get the fuck away from me!"

And with that he continued storming out of the building, as I scrambled to my feet trying to save my apples and wondering what the hell just happened.

Perhaps being invisible wasn't all it was cracked up to be either.

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_**Thoughts? **_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

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Retribution: 1. requital according to merits or deserts, especially for evil. 2. something given or inflicted in such requital. 3. _Theology _. the distribution of rewards and punishments in a future life.

**Retribution**

The doorman gave me his usual courtesy smile as I made my way through the flashy lobby of the even flashier building Tanya's parents had put their baby girl in when she arrived in New York; seventeen years old and with no one but her fucking housekeeper to keep her company and make sure she stayed out of trouble.

Carmen and Eleazar Denali were all about paying other people to take care of their little pride and joy while they were living it up in Aspen, Cannes, or some other jet-set hideout. They hardly ever came to New York, unless it was for some highly publicized charity event or to cash in on their daughter's promising operatic career.

I remembered Tanya had told me once during our first year together at Julliard, that for the first five years she thought her fucking nanny was actually her mother. That was, until she called the poor woman 'mommy' during some public function and her parents had the poor woman fired.

It was a wonder she had turned out the way she did: grounded and relatively sane.

It almost made me appreciate my own fucked up parental units. I mean, my childhood had been beyond fucked up with my dad always being elsewhere and my mom hovering all over me like a satellite–well, at least until she killed herself–but at least I'd been able to escape the particular horror of some fucking Julie Andrews wannabe running around the house all day.

The sounds of Trent Reznor, announcing that he wanted to fuck me like an animal–something I'd have no objection to had he been some stunning blonde–greeted me as soon as she opened the damn door.

_Fuck. Tanya's home._

_Just what I need._

If you didn't know her, you would have suspected that beneath the stuck up, polished, well-mannered exterior of my best-fucking-friend in this world lurked a half-savage tomboy who could drink like a fish, swear like a sailor, and preferred listening to the Nine Inch Nails and Rammstein to Beethoven and the whole classical gang in her free time; although her choice in music, according to Tanya herself, had more to do with protecting her precious instrument than anything else. Classical music made her want to sing, which would only tire her voice or damage it, whereas NIN just made her want to dance and/or fuck and, though her fondness of their music probably put quite a strain on her pussy, it would be nowhere near as damaging to her career as turning up at rehearsals with a hoarseness to her voice.

After all, when it came to sex, Tanya _made_ people scream, she hardly ever did the screaming. It was probably all her mother's doing–her real one, not some nanny–telling her it was beneath her to show any kind of emotion, let alone pleasure. Not that I spent an awful lot of time thinking about my best friend's sex life because…jeez, she was like my little sister or some shit.

"Edward? Is that you?" Tanya's clear soprano voice sounded over the orgasmic crooning.

For a moment I seriously considered sneaking off to my room to delay the inevitable. That was, until her fucking majesty appeared in the doorway, her eyes tightening to tiny slits as she read my intentions like a book. "You run away and I'll kick your sorry ass to the streets," she warned before turning on her heels and stalking back into the living room, knowing I would follow her like the loyal, dependent, lapdog I was.

Not that I didn't deserve her wrath, though. Hell, out of all the people who'd yelled at me today, Tanya was the only one who actually did deserve it. "I'm sorry Tanya," I sighed, my shoulders hunching as the cocky behavior that had been my armor and only defense against the world deflated like a fucking soufflé gone wrong. _Great! Another lecture. Just what I need._

"You don't get to say that yet!" Tanya snapped, her perfectly manicured fingernails almost piercing skin as she pricked them into my chest. "Where the hell have you been? I was worried sick!"

"Jail," I sighed, covering my eyes as I sagged down onto one of the leather sofas.

She arched one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. "Again?"

"_Yes_," I sighed, feeling my frustration creep back up on me as my hands balled into fists, dying to lash out at _something_. "Again."

She huffed, shaking her head in apparent displeasure. "Possession?"

"Amongst other things." I tried to shrug it off, like I had been doing all day, but the problem was that the more I did, the more I realized that it was impossible. I'd really gone and done it now. I'd fucked up. Completely.

"Other things?" Tanya barked, oblivious to my inner self-hate. She caught herself right at the brink of an angry burst out, taking a few deep breaths to control herself and, most importantly, protect her voice before she went on in that really subdued low voice I'd come to really fucking fear over the years. "Edward, what the fuck? What did you do?"

"_I_ didn't do anything!" I growled. "It was that fucker Jacob Black! He did this to me. He set me up!"

"And _you_ let it happen!" Tanya hissed, again needing a few seconds to remain in control. "I knew the minute Garrett introduced you to that mangy mutt, that he would be trouble. I _warned_ you, Edward. I _told_ you not to let that guy into your life!"

"Then I guess you must be ecstatic now," I sneered. "You get to say 'I told you so'! You get to watch your best friend go down in the greatest fuckup in recent history and you get to smile and know you were right. I should really introduce you to my dad, by the way. I think the two of you would get along so well. Who knows, with any luck I may even get to call you mommy in a couple of years!"

"Fuck you!" she yelled. "Do you think I like watching you ruin your life?" Her eyes blazed with fire, especially when she realized what she'd just done; the anger at the possible damage her outburst had done to her voice bringing an extra layer to the deep shit I was already in.

I shrugged. "Don't you?"

"Grow up!" she stated, calm again and seemingly in control. "For heaven's sake, Edward, stop acting like a fucking fifteen year old and start taking responsibility for once in your life! There are people all around dying to help the moment you finally realize you need it!"

"I don't…" I started; only to be interrupted almost the second I tried to speak.

"You're stuck in your anger," she continued, "and you have been for five years now. You _need_ to move on before that becomes your undoing."

"Don't you think I'm trying?" I yelled, fisting my hands into my hair. "Do you really think I like being stuck in fucking limbo? Mooching off my friend and twiddling my thumbs while you all go out and make a fucking success?"

She wasn't impressed by my little outburst, though. Not that I even expected it. "If this is you _trying_," she sneered, with an annoying little snort tacked on, just for kicks, "then I'd like to see you do nothing."

She held up her hand when I tried to speak again, which was something I was really starting to get fucking sick of. Who the hell did she think she was? _My mother_? "You need to face your demons, Edward. Not run away from them, or try to drown them out with drugs and alcohol because this…" she waved her hand over at me, her eyes holding a look of regret that stung like a fucking dagger, "…this is turning you into the worst kind of selfish, arrogant, asshole possible."

I hung my head, knowing that there was much truth in what she said. "I'm sorry, T," I mumbled. "Can I say it now without you biting my head off?"

"You can," she nodded curtly. "And I applaud you for getting that sentence out of your mouth without a single profanity." She let out a deep breath as she took a seat next to me.

There was sadness in the way that she sat, turned towards me with her head resting on her arm. "I love you like a brother, Edward," she spoke softly, "which is why it kills me to see you self-destruct."

"I know," I whispered, guiltily brushing a strand of strawberry hair out of her face.

We sat like that for quite some time, the silence between us laden with comfort as I played with her hair and she watched me. There was nothing sexual or even remotely sensual in our actions, though I knew others would probably interpret it as such. It was just the ease and comfort that settled in when two friends had been living together for four years and–during those times–shared more than a few breakdowns between them.

Tanya had been my best friend ever since I'd met her during the auditioning process at Julliard. Even back then she had emitted an air of certainty and confidence that had made her stand out like the fucking diva she was. It was a fascinating thing to behold, this tall Amazon of a woman standing proudly amidst a mass of shaky, nervous teens. She'd looked so much older than the rest of them even though in reality she was one of the youngest applicants in the bunch; so much wiser too.

From the moment her lips had curled into a sarcastic little smirk as her eyes zoned in on me, I knew we were going to be friends, especially when the first five words to me were a blatant insult.

She'd called me 'pretty boy'. If it were any other person–man or woman–I would have decked them, but from her I found, much to my own amazement, I could take it, especially when her insult was followed up by her telling me how relieved she was to find someone else around the place who wasn't either pissing their pants or throwing up from nervousness.

That would have been me since, of course, I'd been an arrogant little fucker even then.

"So, do you want to tell me what happened now?" Tanya finally asked, pulling me back into the present. "How bad is it?'

"You don't really want to know," I smirked, though I proceeded to tell her everything anyway.

"Shit," Tanya gasped, grabbing my hand and gently squeezing it as I finished telling her how I ended up getting arrested with Jake's stash. "What was he carrying?"

"Not much, thank God," I answered. "But there was enough coke and weed to have me booked for dealing."

"Fuck." Tanya closed her eyes and shook her head as she rubbed her temples, almost making it seem like she was trying to make it all go away.

I wished she could.

"The worst thing, though," I continued, "is that because I was so out of it, I didn't even realize the cops were trying to pull me away from the fucker I was teaching a lesson and… Well…" I scratched my head, knowing this wasn't going to go over so well, "I kind of lashed out at one of the cops."

"For Christ's sake, Edward, you fucking idiot!" she hissed, rearing up as if she was getting ready to slap me.

"I know," I growled. "One of my more stupid actions."

"Try _the_ most stupid on a long list of dumbass things," she lectured. "What are you going to do now?" she asked, as I came to the end of my fucked up story.

"Find Jake and kick every fucking lie out of him," I shrugged. "He's the only one who can keep my ass out of prison."

"Which is exactly why you're not going anywhere near that asshole again," Tanya warned. "Let our lawyer deal with him while you focus on straightening out your act."

"We'll see about that," I grumbled, stretching my sore body as I stood up from the couch. "Right now all I want to do is take a shower and sleep."

I was already halfway out of the door when I heard her mumble something that made my shame and guilt quadruple. "By the way, that big audition that I had this morning went incredibly well. I think I might actually have a chance at landing Amneris, seeing as my competition seems to have developed a polyp on her vocal chords."

_Fuck_! I was such an asshole. How could I have forgotten that today was the day when Tanya went up against the gods of the Metropolitan Opera to land a job in their latest staging of Aida?

I let out a frustrated growl the moment my bedroom door closed behind me, my fists clenched as I fought the urge to break something, preferably myself. I did somehow manage to strip out of my clothing and stagger my way over to the bathroom, grabbing a fresh pair of boxers on my way.

The shower was divine, even if it would do nothing to make all of this go away. It did, however, wash away the sweat and grime, and maybe even a bit of the guilt that had managed to build up over the last twenty-four hours and made my aching muscles hum with pleasure.

I closed my eyes, my hand almost automatically reaching out for my cock to do some stress relieve but, as I tried to focus on the memories of epic past hookups, my mind kept going back to the events of the past day and the effects they would have on my future. Not a very stimulating place to be, and my cock apparently agreed.

"Fuck!" I finally growled, banging my fist against the tiles in frustration. What the hell was wrong with me? I was a twenty-five year old deadbeat mooching off of my best friend while I did my best to fuck my life up even further. And now I couldn't even get myself off, either. _Can anyone spell loser?_

Maybe Tanya had been right. Maybe it was time for me to grow up and face the reality of what had happened, but before I could do that, there was something else that needed to be dealt with first. Or rather: _someone_. Because as ready as I was to move on, I knew as long as I still had that damn trial hanging over me, I'd never get rid of the past. Besides, I was still no closer to figuring out what I wanted to fucking move on to.

My anger kept rising as snuck out of the apartment, taking the subway over to Norwood with people dodging the hell out of way as I fast paced it further on to Jake's place, catching a stroke of luck as I managed to make my way into his building just as some scared looking little old lady came out and scurried out of way, clutching her purse for dear life as she eyeballed my tats. I scoffed. _It's not like every damn tattooed punk is a fucking purse-snatcher, lady! Some of us actually work for a living…or at least try to. _

By the time I finally made it to Black's floor, I was so worked up I was basically bursting at the seams, my blood already singing with anger as I knocked; his sister getting out of dodge as soon as she saw me. And judging from the tone of her voice as she called for her brother to get his ass to the door, she knew exactly what was up.

"Hey man!" The way Jake fucking acted like nothing was wrong–like I hadn't just woken up in jail to face drug dealing charges, didn't do him any good as far as I was concerned, the words that left his mouth next only serving as icing on the cake. "Wassup?"

"What's up?" I roared back, clutching the door before he could try to close it on me. "What's _fucking_ up? Last time you saw me I got arrested with _your_ shit, Jake! You know what's up!"

The asshole had the audacity to actually look smug as he stood there, arms crossed in front of his chest and grinning at me like he fucking knew everything. "Prove it, Masen."

"Prove it?" I snarled. "What the fuck, Black? You _know_ I didn't fucking do it! You stitched me up, asshole, and now I'm looking to go down for _your_ fucked up mess!"

At that, the fucker had the good grace to at least look guilty as he shifted nervously in the doorway, eyeballing the other doors on the floor as if he expected help, or fucking Batman or something, to magically rush forward and save his sorry ass. "Look man, I'm sorry you got busted with that shit and all, but it's just…I got this job interview tomorrow and I can't go in if my record's busted. They'll never hire me."

"So you screwed me over for some lousy job?" I roared, fighting the urge to go ahead and punch him now. _Later_.

"I need the money, Ed," he sneered back. "It's not like I have rich friends who can keep me in clothes and scotch like you do, or a rich daddy who can keep me out of trouble if shit goes wrong."

For a moment I blinked, stunned until my mind finally caught up with the weird math going on in Jake's head. "Wait…so you think I'm actually going to come out of this shit easily?"

"Come on, man!" Jake mocked. "Let's not kid ourselves into thinking the system treats us both the same." His eyes gleamed maliciously as he pointed his fucking finger, making me really want to break it _and_ the hand it was connected to. "And for all your fucking yelling about your dad, we both know he'll get you out of his shit with nothing more than a slap on the wrist and maybe some dumbass sobriety course or something…unlike if it had been me."

"So you did this because you thought I had some fucking get-out-of-jail-free card?" I snarled, my hands already fists by my side. "What the fuck are you on, Jake? I'm looking at jail time here, for fuck's sake! And you fucking _know_ it!"

He shrugged. "Not my problem, man?"

The next thing he knew he was clutching his nose, my hand stinging satisfactorily as I landed a good one right in the middle of his fucking face. "Instead of taking it like a goddamn man, you _made_ this my problem, you fucking douche!"

"The cops will be so happy to know about this," he jeered, clutching his nose as a small stream of blood started to trickle through his fingers. _I got him good. _"You better hurry back home and enjoy a nice solitary shower, Cullen. It may be the last you're going to have in a while."

"Then I'd better make sure it's fucking worth it!" I snorted, making use of his confusion by landing an upper on his chin as my other fist dug into his gut, leaving him gasping on the floor. "By the way…those fancy lawyers my dad provided me with? They're going to make sure the right one goes down for this, you fucking dog."

And with that, I walked away, knowing I'd done as much damage as I wanted. Maybe a bit more but…well, the fucker had it coming! As I flew back down the stairs, the whole conversation played over and over again in my mind, making me even fucking angrier at that lousy mutt for setting me up. He thought my rich daddy would take care of it?

Apparently the guy had more sawdust in his brain that I thought he did because if there was any way you could just argue away a bag of weed big enough to dope up a small orphanage, no dealer in the state of New York would have a fucking record.

He knew what he was doing but he did it anyway, out of some sick sort of payback for me growing up with a golden spoon in my fucking mouth.

Well look where that got me?

Did he really think that if I would have been happy with my entitled little Upper East Side life, I would have hung out with the likes of him while mooching off my best friend in the hope of avoiding 'daddy dearest"?

He was one of the few people who knew what really happened–how much I hated my dad for what he'd done–and the fact that he went around and spat all of that back in my face made me want to head back up there and finish the job I'd started.

Finish it for good.

"Fucking punk!" I growled, banging my fists into random objects as I flew down the stairs again, my anger clouding my judgment as well as my vision or so it seemed, my consciousness only catching up with me when I was on the floor in the dirty fucking hallway with something hard poking me in the ribs and my limbs tangled with those of what appeared to be a girl.

A really _freaky_ fucking female, staring at me like she thought I was just going to jump on her and rape her or something. _Again, ladies, I may look like a fucking deviant but I'm not a fucking criminal._

Unless you'd asked the police, of course.

"Jesus Christ!" I took in a deep breath as I brushed myself off, about to say something when the scent of her–sweet, soft and so much like mom's it made me freak the fuck out–entered my nose, making me jump up like my fucking ass was on fire, my reaction primal as the weird girl kept staring at me as if I was the apparition instead of her.

"Get the fuck away from me!" My nostrils were flaring against the sudden flush of feelings I'd spent years trying to get under control, my legs already hightailing it out of there before any guilt would catch up with me. _That's just great, Edward. So now you're not only looking at your second arrest in twenty-four hours but you also scared some poor little girl just because she smelled funny. Mom would be so proud of you._

I sighed, scratching my head as I debated going back to see if she was alright, though my legs kept going back in the direction of the subway station at a steady pace.

Why hadn't I just stuck to my resolve to no longer do this kind of shit?

* * *

_**Thoughts?**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

* * *

Scrutiny: 1. a searching examination or investigation; minute inquiry. 2. surveillance; close and continuous watching or guarding. 3. a close and searching look.

**Scrutiny**

I spent the rest of the day and most of the next exploring the neighborhood and venturing further and further out in my explorations of my new hometown. As amazing and overwhelming as all the impressions New York made upon me were, though, my mind kept on going back to that first day and the strange 'close encounter of the aggressive kind' I'd experienced in the foyer of the apartment.

What the hell happened there?

Through the thick haze my panic attack had left behind, I faintly remembered him looking at me like I had two heads and three noses before he hightailed it out of there without as much as another glance at the damage he'd done.

Three broken eggs, a broken cucumber and a loaf of bread that looked like I'd pulled it out from underneath a bus. And that was not including the panic attack he left me in or even that night which I'd spent having nothing but nightmares about my days in Seattle and Professor Banner. The angry man had been nothing like _him_ but still, the violent gleam in his eyes had somehow gotten connected to those horrible final weeks, where it had become more and more clear than I'd walked right into the trap Banner had set for me, just like the naïve little girl he knew I was.

I guess the only good thing to come out of those first few confusing days in New York was that I really had been starting to feel at home in my small studio apartment. There was something about the worn but comfortable furniture and warm colors on the walls that created a feeling of contentment I'd been missing ever since I'd left my lovely little attic room in Leiden and hopped on the airplane carrying me back to the US.

I was going to love it here. I was determined to; even if in the back of my mind, part of me still wasn't sure if I'd made the best decision by coming back when there might still have been hope for a research position in Amsterdam with one of my professors. Still, would I have really given up the opportunity to study the man I'd been idolizing ever since I'd first heard the amazing compositions his mind could create?

A part of me knew that the answer would always be 'no'. An offer like Caius had made me only came once in a lifetime and to get the chance to unearth documents and drink in pages that had once been touched by the maestro's hands? Even the thought alone was enough to make my heart race in excitement.

And then, of course, there was always that offhand comment _oma_, my Dutch grandmother, had made one day when we were listening to the old, signed gramophone record that had been gifted to her by her old friend, the maestro himself. _'Everyone around him was convinced that his talent had run dry after his muse had left him but I knew that he was working on something…right before he left for France.'_

Could it be that she had been speaking the truth; that _The Land of Shadows_ wasn't the only opera Johannes van Leiden had intended to leave behind? The thought had always seemed so unreal to me, with his legacy still being intact and, to this day, protected by his descendants in the very same brownstone he had inhabited. It was virtually impossible for a whole opera score to have been buried there, undetected amidst all the dust-gathering treasures for almost a century. _Still, there's always hope…_

As always, duty called and so instead of wasting away the day, lying in bed and dreaming about documents that may not even exist, I had to get up and shower before Angela would show up and drag me to the community center by my greasy, uncombed hair. Somehow I didn't doubt she would. As fun as Angela was to be around, I had to admit her kickass personality left me both in awe, but at the same time, scared the crap out of me. She was so unpredictable that it was hard to see where you stood with her; when she was kidding and when she wasn't.

There were few things in life I was more ill-suited to than teaching. In fact, it had been the one thing that had always held me back from achieving my Ph.D, since that process would involve quite a bit of it. The only reason I was willing to give it a go was that Caius' offer had come with the very expressed agreement that my teaching would be limited to the barest minimum and even then, I would only be required to take over a few tutorials here and there, instead of lecture a whole room full of students on something maybe a very select view were interested in.

"I can do this." Even my own reflection in the mirror seemed unconvinced by my affirmation, my lips already bitten so raw it hurt as my teeth clenched around it again.

"I _should_ be able to do this," I repeated, my own frustration with myself creeping into my voice. "I'm twenty-two years old for crying out loud. The idea of teaching a bunch of people a couple of words in a language I can almost dream in shouldn't scare me." I frowned at myself, almost starting to believe my own words.

_Almost_, because in the background there was always that little nagging voice that told me whatever I did, it would never be good enough. That voice with _his_ eyes, peering at me from the back of the lecture hall, foretelling his displeasure and the new demands he would be making of me to 'make up for my inadequacy'.

The stupid thing was that even after years of having nothing but praise heaped on me by my professors and being told that all he had been doing was more befitting of the term 'abuse' than 'teaching', there would always be a piece of me that believed his words.

I think that was why I preferred books and old, smelly documents to people.

At least books and archival pieces would never deem you incompetent. They might challenge you and even be so hard to interpret that you felt like pulling your hair out at the roots, but at the end of the day they could never abuse you or make you doubt you were even worthy enough to breathe the same air as them. They would always welcome you with their words, whether you could understand them or not and they would never hurt you, like people.

Luckily, before I slipped from the sliding scale of doom, Angela knocked on the door and one look at her perky, happy face made me forget my self-doubt. "Hey, Bella! Are you all set to go?"

I nodded, quickly grabbing my bag and coat before locking the door behind me. "Is it far from here?"

"Not at all," Angela answered, juggling her own bag with a huge casserole dish. "I just have to drop this off at one of your neighbors' and then we'll be on our way."

The neighbor in question turned out to be a really nice woman, a few years older than Bella, bouncing a cute toddler on her hip as she opened the door and engulfed Angela in a hug that had Bella both in awe of the fact that she managed to do so without crushing her kid and slightly jealous at the easy affection between the two.

We didn't stay and chat, the start of the evening classes at the center limiting their time to a quick introduction. "Leah's one of the nicest people in this building and I'm sure she'd love to show you around," Angela prattled on as we made it outside. "Of course I'd do it myself but the in-laws are coming to stay and so I'll be stuck with Ben's mother for the next two weeks."

I nodded as I followed Angela's lead, surmising from the sour look l spotted on her face that she wasn't too fond of her mother-in-law.

"And Seth, of course, is just the cutest little boy you'll ever meet…kind of makes me want one myself if me and Ben weren't both still in school, that is." Angela's eyes widened as she rounded on me, looking like she'd just found the answer to all of life's questions. "Oh, you should see Leah's brother, by the way. Jake? He'd be perfect for you…he's so hot in a rough kind of way but he's actually really nice once you get to know him."

I swallowed. _Just what I needed, a meddling friend who tries to set me up with every Tom, Dick or Harry she knows_. "T-thanks," I stammered, "but I don't date."

"You don't date?" Angela looked at me like I'd just grown a second head.

I shrugged in reply, looking strictly at the pavement. "I like to focus on my studies."

"Oh, that's right!" Angela corrected herself. "Mike mentioned you're some kind of genius. Well if you ever get bored of hanging out at the library, just give me a heads up and we'll have a night on the town. Just us girls."

I smiled at her, really appreciating the kindness and the gesture even though I knew I wasn't going to take her up on it anytime soon. "Thanks."

"So we're here," Angela changed the subject, motioning at a small one-story building that looked like it had seen much better days. "I know it doesn't look like much but this is probably one of the most loved buildings in the neighborhood." She shrugged as she added, "to us who run the place, at least."

"Mike never told me that!" I cried amazed. "You're…"

"So you?" Angela grinned. "I know but when one of the old board members stepped down, what was I supposed to do? Let the whole place crumble to pieces? Besides, there aren't a whole lot of people eager to volunteer at these kinds of places and, with me studying accounting I was kind of an asset."

"I can see that!" I beamed back, admiring her more with everything I got to know about her.

Angela made quick work of setting me up in one of the empty classrooms before heading over to her own room on the other side of the building. My nerves rose to a point where I almost threw up as I waited for the first of my students to arrive.

Knowing that I _would_ be throwing up if I stayed put, I decided to stray a little, sticking to the corridor my room was on as I followed the sound of music pouring from one of the rooms near the back, I gasped as I spotted a very familiar face through the glass window in the door.

The angry man.

He was sitting at a piano, half hunched over one of the cutest little girls I'd ever seen in my life. I wanted to run right in there and rescue the poor girl before he exploded on her the way he'd done with me but I was just transfixed on the change in him as he watched in rapt fascination how the little girl copied a piece he'd just played for her almost perfectly, his eyes glimmering with pride as he applauded.

_Those eyes…_

They'd been a fixed mark in my nightmares last night–angry and violent just like they'd been when we met–but looking at them again, they couldn't be more different. Gone were the anger and the thirst for blood, leaving just a handsome man with a friendly face and nothing but the leather jacket hanging over a chair and the slight peek of a tattoo from underneath his shirt as proof that he was, indeed, the same guy I'd met the day before.

From my unseen little corner I continued to watch, my heart beat erratically in my chest as he patiently took her through the next movement, his cringe when the little girl completely butchered the piece carefully hidden from her view as he smiled and explained it again, leaving me fascinated and unable to pull my eyes away as I contemplated how on earth a person could be so calm and agreeable one moment and burn so hotly with rage the next. _Was it me who set him off? Or had it been something else? _

Only the arrival of my first student managed to tear me away from my spot, my disappointment at having to step away almost making me snap at the lovely old lady coming to introduce herself. She called me 'deary' and she'd even brought cookies.

I soon found out that my 'Dutch-for-beginners-class' consisted of only five senior citizens who all had roots in the Netherlands and had taken to studying the language as a way to reconnect with their past. Though 'studying' had to be taken with a huge grain of salt as they seemed to be perfectly happy to chat about their memories in English all evening, with only the odd Dutch phrase strewn in for good measure, while munching on cookies and sipping tea. When they found out I'd spent the past three years living there, their adoration rose to almost God-like highs and they bombarded me with questions for the remainder of class.

When they finally released me (but only after I'd promised to come back some time–a promise made surprisingly easy considering the amount of time I'd spent dreading this class), I found Angela waiting for me outside in the hall with another woman.

"How did it go?" she asked excitedly, bolting in my direction but coming to a sudden, almost Woody Woodpecker-like stop as she probably remembered my aversion to physical contact.

"Great!" I wouldn't have been able to keep my smile or my relief out of my voice even if I wanted to. "You never told me my students would be so sweet!"

"Yeah, you got the easy crowd," the unknown woman chimed in, stepping forward. "All my students try to do is kick the crap out of me."

"This is Rose Hale," Angela snorted, making the introduction, though I wasn't sure if her amusement was because of what Rose said or the way I looked. "She teaches the self-defense class."

"Ah!" I blushed, finally putting two and two together.

"Right!" Rose grinned. "So are you two tagging along or do I have to eat my chocolate cake all by myself tonight?"

I frowned, waiting for Angela to explain which she promptly did. "Rose and I usually go for coffee and a huge piece of cake after we finish our classes, but if you'd rather go home…"

The truth was that I would, definitely, rather go home, curl up in bed with a book and forget about the rest of the world but at the same time, I felt bad about keeping Angela from something she obviously enjoyed to do. So ten minutes later I found myself sitting at a cozy local diner with my eyes on the largest piece of chocolate cake I'd ever seen in my life. _A girls' dream come true…_

"Just wait until you've tasted it!" Rose added with a huge smile as she dug into her own piece with gusto, a porn-like moan getting the attention of any male who hadn't been glued to her fine form the minute she stepped into the establishment. I swear that a few of them had to cross their legs to keep from making a fool out of themselves, not that Rose seemed to notice or care.

I envied her, both for her looks and the way she didn't seem to be scared or intimidated at all by the leering looks of half the people in this joint. I also envied her for her keen eye, though I wasn't so sure whether or not I liked the way those steel-blue eyes seemed to be studying my every move.

Much to her credit, Rose waited until Angela had gone to the bathroom before she unleashed her superior observations skills on me. "So who's the bastard that scared you of pretty much everyone but especially the dick-carrying part of this world?"

My mouth fell open in shock as my hands and neck started to clam up with panic-sweat. _She just blurted that out…just like that. _"W-what?"

"Oh, honey!" Rose smiled, but there was a bitter edge to her humor that made me wonder about her past. "No one who's in the business of teaching self-defense hasn't seen that kind of reaction a dozen times before…or experienced it firsthand."

"Y-you…" I stammered in between deep breaths. _Just like Doctor Van Heek taught you. In. Out. In. Out. Find your center. In. Out. In. Out. _

She nodded. "It's been ages ago but sometimes something happens and I'm just…back there. You know?"

This time I nodded, knowing all too well what she was saying, even though what had happened to me had been peanuts compared to some other stories I'd heard. "I'm s-sorry."

"Don't be," Rose shrugged. "And I know you'll probably feel uncomfortable as hell, talking to some stranger but…just know I'm here if you ever want to talk to someone who's been there…or hit something, 'cause I can show you just where to hit a fucker where it really hurts."

"Thanks." I managed to smile, the panic already lowering to manageable levels as I basked in the kindness of my new friends; kindness I'd never expected to find in a city known for its fast-paced dog-eat-dog lifestyle.

"And speaking of the scum of the earth…" Rose's eyes narrowed as they zoomed in on something behind me, my own eyes widening when I spotted the 'angry man' sitting a few booths down from us, chewing his way through a burger and fries.

"You know him?" I didn't want to appear too eager because I wasn't really, even though the man had had me strangely intrigued from minute one, so I kind of backpedaled as I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "I mean…I saw him earlier, at the center."

"His name is Edward–or Masen as he prefers to call himself–and he's bad news, Bella," Rose confirmed what I'd already suspected but was finding harder and harder to merge with the image of the kind piano teacher I'd seen earlier. "You'd do best to say as far away from him as you can."

I nodded, hazarding another look over my shoulder as I bit my lip, my heart pounding in my throat as, just that moment, he looked up and those deep, green eyes of his linked with mine. It couldn't have been more than just a moment before we both looked away and the connection was broken but even that left me completely shaken. "W-what do you know about him?" I asked, forcing my attention back to Rose even though my whole being wanted to turn around again.

Rose shrugged as she started to rattle off, "Entitled little rich boy from the Upper East Side, thinks he's the shit and ghetto, running with the wrong crowd, doing drugs and getting inked but, at the end of the day, he goes back to his nice little feather bed and his plushy little trust fund." She snorted bitterly, as if the association alone brought back memories. "I know his kind, Bella, and…and they're toxic to people like us."

I didn't quite understand what she was saying but before I could ask her to explain, Angela was back, whirling into our booth like a cannon ball of energy and mostly succeeding in taking my mind off the man – _Masen_.

Well…mostly.

As things winded down and we shrugged back into our coats, I chanced another stealthy glance at where he'd been sitting, my heart plummeting when I spotted a gorgeous female sitting next to him–or hanging over him as she stole some of his fries was more like it; joking around as they looked like a perfect couple. Though she might have looked a little too 'uptown' for him but that kind of figured with what I learned about him from Rose.

Anyway, as I made my way out, following Angela and Rose as I chimed in for a token reply to what they were saying, I decided it didn't matter whether he was taken or not. I wasn't interested, after all, and, as Rose had said: the boy was bad news.

* * *

_**Thoughts? **_


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

* * *

Lotus: **1. **a plant believed to be a jujube or elm, referred to in Greek legend as yielding a fruit that induced a state of dreamy and contented forgetfulness in those who ate it. **2. **the fruit itself. **3. **any aquatic plant of the genus _Nelumbo, _of the water lily family, having shieldlike leaves and showy, solitary flowers usually projecting above the water. **4. **any of several water lilies of the genus _Nymphaea. _**5. **a decorative motif derived from such a plant and used widely in ancient art, as on the capitals of Egyptian columns.

**Lotus**

Barely twenty-four hours into my renewed plan to better myself and I was already bored out of my fucking skull. Seriously, if this was what all the regular fuckers felt like, I might have to rethink my plan about no longer being up to no good because I was this close to sticking my head in an oven and making and ending like Sylvia Plath. That was, if I'd actually been anywhere near an oven.

Being as it was, I had to satisfy myself by drowning my sorrows in greasy fries and a burger as I finally stilled the hunger that had built up over an afternoon of teaching kids how to play the piano–or at least, how not to butcher the mediocre instrument in their classroom. And believe me, with most of the kids I taught, that was quite a fucking achievement.

I got a strange kind of buzz out of seeing a kid actually work his or her way through the first movements of Bach's _Minuet in G Major. _I mean, the wages I took home after my teaching gig might have been piss poor but nothing really beats the look of ecstasy on a friggin' eight year old's face when he actually did manage to fumble through a classical piece without fucking it up. Besides, it also gave me a strange sort of pleasure to know that this was one thing my dad would hate.

Well, screw him.

If he'd wanted his precious golden boy to love him and actually give a shit about what _he_ wanted, he shouldn't have gone and fucked some random whore behind my mom's back; driving the poor woman so crazy she crashed her car into a brick wall in her attempt to catch him at his game.

Or maybe he should have just started by actually being home every so often while I was a kid.

Being as it was, he'd killed the only person in the world I'd ever given a fuck about, apart maybe from Tanya, and because of that I couldn't give two fucks about what he wanted or how he was doing.

I was just about getting ready to throw my plate of food through the room out of sheer frustration when the door opened and in walked Rose–fucking–Hale with her newest minions. Of all the girls I never wanted to see again in my life, she was probably the top of the fucking list. Even now, as she was walking in, talking animatedly with her followers, I could already see from that smug look on her face that she was probably talking about herself again. One of the girls she was dragging behind her I recognized from the community center and the other…_well shit. Is she stalking me now? _

I swallowed as the weird girl who smelled like mom and whose cucumber had left me with a big fucking bruise on my ass walked in behind them, her eyes on the floor and her whole being looking like she'd rather go through a colonoscopy than hang out here.

Weird.

Suddenly very interested in my fries again, I managed to remain undetected since I had a feeling shit might get ugly if Rose spotted me around her turf. Being all 'new and improved' an all that shit, I kinda wanted to avoid having a crazy, pissed off chick running after me–especially one as damned crazy as Rose Hale.

It wasn't like I skinned her puppy or drugged her up or anything, though God knows she probably made it out like I did. It wasn't anywhere near that bad. In fact, I could argue that since she was so fucking determined to get me to go out on a date with her, this whole thing was her own damned fault anyway. It still didn't excuse the way I'd kinda behaved like a dick and ditched her halfway through our date when Jake and some of his buddies happened to walk into the same place we were hanging out in, though.

In my defense: I was bored out of my fucking skull, having to listen to her brag about how great her life was and how she was top of her class in some wannabe-rich college major. Not that my own damn life was so fucking interesting but when a guy goes out on a date, he at least wants to get in a few words every now and then.

I cursed when my phone went off, though with the crappy music blaring from the sound system and the thing being on 'vibrate' those girls would have had to have bat's ears to pick up on the sound. _Tanya_.

"What's up?" I asked, stuffing a few more cold fries into my mouth.

"A couple of us are going to hang out at Lotus tonight," she announced, skipping the niceties like I knew she would. "Wanna go?"

I snorted skeptically, remembering how she'd lectured me on my partying only the day before. "You think I should be hanging around in clubs with the stuff that's hanging over my head right now?"

"What kind of trouble can you get up to with me cramping your style?" She countered. "Molly and Gar are going to be there too. It will be great to have the whole gang back together before all the chucks leave the nest."

I smirked, not really liking the little reminder of how royally fucked up my life was. "I'm still up in the Bronx."

"I'll come pick you up," she answered, sounding way too eager to get me out there for me not to become suspicious. "They won't get there before ten anyway so we've got plenty of time."

"Fine," I pouted, not really knowing why I didn't feel like going out. I mean, up until a few days ago I kind of lived for this sort of shit. It wasn't like me to get all pissy about the prospect of going out, drinking a few beers, maybe picking up some chick to ride my dick, "But don't go grumping at me tomorrow when your voice's shot to shit."

"Rehearsals don't start until October and that's still three weeks from now," she defended herself, though I think that deep down she fucking knew her bosses would blow a gasket if they found out she was clubbing the night away. "Besides, I'll make sure I don't talk too much."

"Right," I snorted, knowing that was as impossible as she did. "So how long until you can get here?"

"Half an hour?" She only waited long enough for me to confirm I'd stay put until then before she hung up, giving me another thirty minutes to pluck my way through a lukewarm piece of crap burger and some soggy fries while trying to avoid detection by the girls a couple of booths down.

At one point I knew they'd spotted me; a high pitched shriek or something sounding like it was coming from Rose's mouth almost made me look up before I thought better of it. If I looked up, she'd know and if she knew…God only knew what she had to say to me.

Sneaking a glance after a while, I found her and Weird Girl huddled together with Rose whispering shit into Weird Girl's ear that probably wasn't too flattering for me, judging by the conspiratorial, evil gleam in the blonde chick's eyes. It wasn't as if I cared, though, I mean, Weird Girl might have smelled suspiciously like the home I thought I'd lost forever but that didn't mean I was into her or anything.

It would have been too fucking strange, even for me. Besides, she wasn't my type anyway and from the way she had been studiously avoiding all attention from others all night (not that I'd been looking) I wasn't hers either. I got the feeling she wasn't much of a people person to begin with.

But what the fuck did I know?

Or care?

The next time I looked up it was when Tanya came in, her eyes drifting around the diner with a thinly veiled distaste before settling to me. It didn't escape my notice, though, that when she'd passed by Rose and Weird Girl's table, Tanya lingered a little longer.

"That her?" she asked, shifting in across from me as her head nudged in Rose's direction.

"Well, hello to you, too," I deadpanned, toying with the final couple of fries on my otherwise empty plate.

"Answer the fucking question, Mase," she sneered, her eyes narrowing as she tried to snag a fry before thinking better of it. Knowing her she was probably afraid she'd catch something horrible like rabies or poverty from eating something in a place like this.

"It's her, okay?" I snapped back. "Why do you care anyway? It's not like I was engaged to her or anything. I only went out on one date with her and it didn't work. Big deal."

Tanya shrugged, visibly sizing up the girls in the other booth. "Just trying to put a face to the name," she mused. "From the way you described the girl, she sounded like some psycho space cadet. I'm almost disappointed she looks so normal."

"Just wait until she opens her mouth," I snickered.

Tanya somehow didn't find this funny, her gaze disinterested as the party of chicks in the other booth broke up to head home again–not that I'd been paying attention or anything. The sound of her voice kind of made me jump like a little girl, pulling my eyes away from Weird Girl and the way she stealthily kept on avoiding every sort of physical contact with her friends. _Weird_. "Let's just get out of here before I contract some sort of communicable disease?" she complained, her hands recoiling from touching the table.

"Jeez, T!" I sighed, rolling my eyes as I shook my head. "Your inner snob is showing."

"Seriously, Edward," she countered, outwardly unimpressed by being called out on her snobby ways. "I really don't see the attraction in hanging out in this part of town. And look where you ended up?" She shook her head in self conviction. "Nothing good can ever come from venturing north of 155th street."

"Tell that to my kids, Tanya," I snapped back, sighing with frustration. It wasn't like we hadn't had this same conversation a million times already. "You know what? I'm really fucking surprised by you." A spark of satisfaction flared as I watched her expression go from really fucking smug to kinda shocked. "I can remember when we used to be on the same page about spreading the word on classical music and using our privileged fucking background to give the lesser fortunate the same kind of advantage we'd had thrown in our laps…"

She at least had the good grace to look embarrassed and slightly guilty as she stammered, "I know but…"

"You never intended to put your time and effort where your mouth was?" I droned on.

"Don't think you have me figured out when you don't know a fuck about what I'm trying to say!" Her old fire was back as her eyes fucking blazed at me. If I'd been honest I was kinda scared of her for a moment. "Because I _do_ fucking care, Edward. I just never wanted to waste my time putting in a few measly hours in some shitty community center when I could be doing something more meaningful like build a fucking music school that could teach hundreds of kids!"

I didn't believe her and Tanya was too good a liar for me not to suspect she was pulling all this music school crap out of her ass. "And when were you going to do that? Because while you were dreaming away your big plans, I've already been pulling my weight for months, in case you haven't noticed."

"Do you really want to sit here and argue about technicalities or do you want to head out with our friends and get wasted?" Tanya countered, completely confirming her own bullshit with her avoidance.

Not that I actually gave a shit or anything. I mean, as much as their playing sometimes made my fucking ears bleed, I kinda liked the kids at the community center and nothing Tanya said could make me change my mind about that. I threw some cash on the table as I shrugged back into my jacket. "As long as you're paying, I'm game."

"Cheap ass!" she grumbled, leading the way. "Oh, and if some punk ass idiot stole my car, I'm _so_ billing your dad for the cost of a new one!"

"Like I fucking give a shit!" I muttered under my breath, following her out to where a small gathering had formed around her ostentatious red Jaguar XKR-S which still seemed to be in mint condition. "Next time, just tell me to take the fucking subway back home, will ya?"

Tanya merely shrugged, not even deigning as much as a look at the fuckers ogling her car as she slid behind the wheel, the car already veering out on the road before I'd closed the door on my side. "Let's just get out of here, shall we?" she sighed as she cranked up the sound system.

I shook my head, chuckling as I leaned back against the leather seats. She was my best friend and I loved the shit out of her but Tanya could be such a fucking snob sometimes it wasn't even funny anymore. I guess that's what happened when you grew up a little oil-princess on your daddy's huge fucking private empire with the only 'real' people surrounding you being the hired help. As smart and down to earth as she could be in other areas, it could sometimes make her seem a little delusional and really fucking snobby about other people who hadn't been as fortunate as she was.

I sighed, my eyes almost closing from sheer tiredness as I thought back on how my mom always made sure I knew just how fucking privileged my upbringing was and how I should praise the Lord on my bare knees every fucking night for having a roof over my head, food in my belly, and a soft fucking bed to lay my sad ass down in every night.

And after she'd taken my seven year old ass to a shelter one day after I'd made a crass remark about some dumpster-diving bum, I'd done just that for about two weeks until my knees started to develop carpet burns from kneeling on the rug in front of my bed every damn night and one of the little punks in my class started to accuse me of being gay.

Tanya drove us back to the apartment first, so that I could change–because according to her that really needed to happen–and we could take a cab over to the club, where the rest of the crew was already waiting for us.

"Anything I need to know before we go in?" I arched my brow at her as one of the bouncers opened the rope to let us through.

"Not really," Tanya replied; her smug look as she stalked past the row of people lining up eliciting all sorts of reactions which only made her grin widen. "It's just the regulars, though I think Kate said something about bringing a friend."

"Aha!" I growled triumphantly. I'd known something was up the second Tanya suggested I'd tag along when only yesterday she'd been at my throat about my fucking partying. Considering the bonus of maybe getting laid if Kate's friend didn't look like a ferret or something, there could have been worse things, though, so I wasn't complaining. "So this isn't as much a get-together as a get-Edward-laid scheme? Really, you shouldn't have!"

"Don't get any ideas, Mase!" Tanya growled and the way she rounded on me with fierce fucking eyes and a fingernail pricking into my chest made me take a fucking step back. "This isn't some wannabe prostitute like Rose Hale you can meet, screw and dump all in the same night. According to Kate, Siobhan is a really nice girl so if you try to screw her over…or just plain _screw_ her, you're going to have _me_ to answer to."

It soon turned out that this Siobhan girl was in no real danger from me, since on closer inspection she did look like a ferret and laughed like one too; the sounds of her shrieking even turning Tanya, who'd been all about her, off. "Really, Kate?" I snorted, bumping into her on my way to get drinks. "What did I ever do to you?"

Kate rolled her eyes, punching me in the gut for good measure. "Shallow much, Edward?" she growled. "I knew you could be an asshole at times but I never thought you'd be that superficial. I mean, have you even tried talking to her?"

"You've heard her laugh, right?" I snorted back. "What makes you think I'd be eager to strike up a conversation with a woman who sounds like a fucking hyena?"

"Just forget it!" Kate sighed, slamming her own drink back before heading back to our booth with Garrett's beer, the masses parting like the red sea as she stalked through the room on her long ballerina legs. _Now if she'd try to hook me up with one of her buddies from _the ballet_, we'll be in fucking business._

Landing a fucking prima ballerina in training was the only thing I envied my cousin for. Apart from Kate, he was just some random tool who'd dropped out of Julliard halfway through his second year because the pressure from his dad to get a 'real' college education had been too much. Now he was working some random nine-to-five on Wall Street, living in a generic yuppie apartment and feeling sorry for himself as he listened to the success stories of his buddies and former classmates with a smile that said it all.

He felt miserable but he'd rather chop his balls off with a fish knife than admit it.

Of course his treacherous ass had landed him a prime spot in the family hierarchy, which is why I was acutely aware that everything I would say in his presence would inevitably go back to dad.

However, even with Kate's bitch glare, Tanya frowning at every drink I kicked back and the presence of a spy in our midst, the evening didn't turn into a complete disaster, even if I was the only one of our gang who had yet to land a steady job or even graduate. In my defense, though, the amount of alcohol I consumed would have turned a funeral into a hootenanny.

Staying clear of my own crowd, it wasn't long until I attracted the attention of some of the more willing ladies in the house that night; the one I was working on so willing she even sacrificed a regular top in favor of some kind of scarf thing wrapped around her tits.

I didn't even hang out with her long enough to remember her name when I coaxed her out through the back entrance and into an alleyway I knew to be quiet (and a prime fucking spot). But as I pounded into her in the alleyway, using her hair as leverage as I fucked her from behind, the pleasure I'd been looking for eluded me until I wasn't even sure anymore who I was more disgusted with: me for turning into every fucking 'rich boy' cliché in the book or her for allowing some random dude she hardly even knew to stick his dick inside her in some disgusting back alley.

And just like that, I deflated.

Literally.

_Well, shit._

"Fuck, I can't do this," I barked, jumping back as if her pussy had suddenly developed teeth or something as I ripped off the condom and threw it away, zipping my already limp dick back up.

If it hadn't been for my withdrawal, I barely think she would have noticed anything was up, her mouth so busy screaming all sorts of stuff she couldn't possibly be meaning since her pleasure hadn't exactly been at the forefront of my thoughts. As it was, she looked back, her eyes glazed with whatever the fuck she was on, her tits still hanging out of her top and her skirt still hiked up above her ass as her mouth formed a shocked 'o'. "W-what?"

I shrugged. "I'm sorry, I guess," I muttered, feeling even more like a loser than I had been at the start of this night. "We'd better go back in."

She nodded, looking utterly deflated as she brushed her hair back into place before pushing her tits back into her top and her skirt down her legs again. _Way to get your priorities straight!_ "A-are you sure you don't want me to…" She made the universal gesture for sucking dick as she looked at me with a thin shimmer of hope.

"Thanks, but no," I smirked, already opening the back door to get back in, making sure she'd make it safely back inside before closing the door again, locking myself out of the club as I walked out of the alley, searching out the nearest Subway entrance.

I had no desire at all to head back in there and make nice with my friends, not with all the shit that was going on at that moment. I knew I had some thinking to do and the best place to do that was still in my own damn room, instead of some fucking club with Garrett all up in my face looking for a nice, juicy report to pass down to my dad.

As I bet the old man would just love to hear what had just gone down in that alleyway.

I snorted, already imagining the look on his face as he found out that apparently heaped on all the other shit I'd failed at, I could now add fucking impotence to the list. He'd think I was a complete fucking loser and the worst thing was that I couldn't even disagree with him anymore. Because here I was: twenty three years old, mooching off my best friend and stuck in every damn meaning of the word. Over the past couple of months, one thing had started to stand out more and more: I was really fucking tired of my life.

It was about time I started finding out what the hell I wanted.

* * *

_**Don't hate me (or Edward). He had to get this low in order to truly realize what he was doing to himself. It's only upwards from here. **_

_**Thoughts?**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

* * *

_**Decided to update a day early to make up for my update-fail of last week (I was in Rome on a field trip with forty seventeen year olds). **_

* * *

Legacy: **1. **_Law. _a gift of property, especially personal property, as money, by will; a bequest. **2. **anything handed down from the past, as from an ancestor or predecessor: _the legacy of ancient Rome. _**3. **an applicant to or student at a school that was attended by his or her parent. **4. **_Obsolete_. the office, function, or commission of a legate.

**Legacy**

Standing in front of my new place of work, the urge to go in had never been smaller. In fact, I had to summen every ounce of strength I had not to run away back to my own little unassuming room with my tail between my legs, dive under the covers and just forget this happened.

What had I been thinking, assuming I would ever fit in at the Volturi Institute? It was too grand for a little, unsightly thing like me.

I would never belong here.

Still, knowing what lay behind the scary façade was enough to make me take my first, shaky step up the marble stairs leading to the ornate front door. The prospect of finding out more about the artists whose short life had fascinated me enough to follow his footsteps halfway around the world–_twice_–made me bolder than I would have been, had there not been such a prize awaiting me. Employees and visitors were already spilling in through the doors as I cautiously followed in their wake, constantly expecting someone to appear in front of me and tell me there had been a terrible mistake. After all, it couldn't possibly be that I was meant to work at a place like this, fulfilling a lifelong dream, right?

Because that would mean that maybe I was meant to be happy after all.

"B-Bella Swan," I announced at the front desk, the genteel, perfectly coifed woman sitting behind it immediately breaking out into a wide smile I couldn't have possibly caused.

"I'll just call Esme and tell her you're here," she answered with a beaming, friendly smile. "I'll get you a temporary badge that will get you through security until Esme can set you up with your own security pass. Now, if you'd like to go through security and take a seat of there, I'm sure she'll only be a minute." She smiled, motioning over for me to take a seat in one of the club chairs on the other side of the security desk.

The whole place seemed rather palatial; the huge foyer covered with ornate fresco's on the wall depicting early Medieval pastoral scenes from Italy as the three-colored marble on the floor followed an intricate, almost maze-like pattern.

It was…beyond surreal but the most dreamlike thing about it was that I seemed to be the only who noticed as others raced by on their way to the reading room or the offices up the marble staircase without even so much as stopping to take a glance at the amazing art that surrounded them.

"It's unbelievable, isn't it?" I was shocked out of my reverie as a middle-aged woman suddenly appeared in front of me, smiling benevolently as her eyes followed my gaze. "I remember the first time I walked in here as if it were yesterday, even though it's almost twenty years ago now." She chuckled, blushing slightly as her eyes reverted back to me. "As much as you will start to take it for granted after a couple of months; it's still nice to see that amazement through the eyes of someone new. I'm Esme McCarty, by the way."

"The chief of archival services," I muttered, my nerves suddenly getting the best of me as I barely managed to produce a clammy hand for her to shake. "I-I'm Isabella Swan… Bella? I think we spoke on the phone."

I half expected her to fire me on the spot, or at least laugh in my face, but instead of disdain and displeasure, she didn't seem to have noticed her newest employee was a complete idiot. Instead, she just smiled and motioned for me to follow her. "You are going to love it here, Bella," she spoke over her shoulder as she directed me to the main staircase. "Let's get you settled in."

As Esme guided me up the stairs and through the maze of offices I was sure I was going to get lost in at some point, while she told me about the history of the place; how it used to be an all-girls private finishing school. The place went bankrupt during the Great Depression and stood vacant and neglected until Aro Volturi's grandfather bought it to turn it into what it was today. Initially it had been the idea to open a research institute that documented the complete history of immigrants coming into the city but when that soon turned out to be nearly undoable, the family decided to focus on Dutch and Italian immigrants instead, covering the two nationalities that made up the family.

"And it's like that to this day," Esme finished as I went through the stack of forms I needed to complete for my employment, "with a member of the Volturi family still at the helm, even though he spends more time out of office than in, these days." She looked over some of the forms I'd already completed before her eyes connected with mine again. "You'll meet him this afternoon at the official handover."

I nodded; my throat suddenly very dry as I was reminded of my first official duty as an employee of the Volturi Institute. _And here I was thinking a researcher would be stuck behind a desk somewhere in a quiet corner with nothing but ancient documents to keep her company_.

Today was a big day in the history of this archive, though. After all, how often did a private and relatively small institute like this get the opportunity to acquire the complete and untouched archives of a legend? That was a big deal, which meant it shouldn't have surprised me to find out the chairman himself wanted to make sure all these priceless documents were in safe hands.

"So, now that we have all the boring old stuff covered," Esme concluded as she handed me my employee ID and a small information packet, "how about we get you settled into your office before I give you the grand tour?"

I smiled; eager to find out where I would be spending most days I wasn't stuck in class. "Do you have many people working here?"

"I guess that depends on what you see as many," Esme answered with a slight shrug as she guided me back through the long passageway that had offices along both sides, our footsteps completely muffled by the thick Persian carpets. "Nowadays I'm sorry to say most of the people working here are involved in security." She shook her head in utter disgust, a move I could only mirror as I remembered some of the things I'd seen in the archives in Amsterdam and Leiden with people defacing centuries-old documents with ballpoint pens or sometimes even trying to sneak something out of the research room and steal them. "Apart from security, there're the people manning the desks in the research room and the library and, of course, Shelley and Claire who man the front desk. And then, of course, there are the eleven or so guys and girls upstairs, management included."

"Eleven?" I didn't know why but somehow the prospect of only having to get used to ten other people to interact with on a daily basis was a huge relief to me. I could do ten. At least, I thought I could.

Esme, though, must have interpreted my relief as surprise. "I know!" she chuckled. "It seems like such a small number for such a big research facility but mostly the people who seek us out come here with a very fixed plan and they usually manage to fend for themselves without further assistance. Upstairs, we mostly work on research projects put in front of us by the government or companies and individuals wanting to track down their ancestry or the heritage of the building they're housed in."

She paused, coming to a standstill in front of one of the many identical wooden doors. "This is the Dutch Room," she explained, her hand closing around the door handle. "It will be your home for as long as you choose to remain with us, and the biggest perk is that seeing as it is the smallest, you only have to share it with one other employee."

"Jasper, isn't it?" I guessed, remembering something from my phone interview and the information they'd e-mailed me after I'd gotten the job.

Esme nodded as she opened the door. "I'm sure you two will get along great."

The first thing that hit me when I entered the smallish office was the complete and utter state of chaos it seemed to be in; boxes of all sorts of sizes occupied almost every available bit of floor space, leaving virtually no room to maneuver as we walked the maze to a little clearing where two desks sat relative unscathed by the madness, one of which occupied by a man as you will find them very often in places like these: shy, geeky with longish, slightly unkempt hair that was obviously dyed pitch black, huge glasses, and a t-shirt that revealed a penchant for heavy metal.

At least this was familiar territory and just for that, I liked him already.

"Care to explain what's going on?" Esme asked while looking rather amused by the state the office was in as she turned her attention back to me. "I can assure you the place is usually much more organized and less cluttered."

"It would have been," the guy–Jasper–muttered frustrated, "if those assholes back at the Van Leyden place hadn't completely jumped us by moving the transfer of most of Johannes' library to _this_ morning instead of tomorrow."

"This is the stuff from the Van Leyden home?" Esme's eyes grew frantic as she looked over the boxes, trying to find some sort of organization to them, I would guess.

"Yep," Jasper nodded solemnly, "and from what I've seen so far, none of them are labeled and it looks like they just shoved all of those books in there without stopping to think about their value." He huffed, pushing his glasses back up his nose before brushing a few strands of hair that had fallen out of his ponytail back behind his ear. "I guess we should count ourselves lucky they didn't just throw them all into a box and carted the whole collection to us!"

"If anything, Jasper is always very vocal and open about what he thinks," Esme chuckled, smiling a bit like an embarrassed mother, "even when, from a business point of view, that might not be the most professional thing to do."

Only then, as Esme addressed me, did Jasper acknowledge me, his lanky frame leaning back in his office chair as he gently put the book he had been assessing back on his desk. "You're the new girl, right?"

I nodded, forcing myself forward as we both did that awkward thing shy people do when they really didn't want to shake hands but know they should because it's the polite thing to do and all that. "I'm Bella Swan."

"You lived in Leiden for a couple of years, right? To study history?" Jasper's eyes had a bit of jealous glimmer to them that made me slightly nervous and very uncomfortable as I nodded. But it was gone as soon as it came as he motioned at the desk across from his. "Good. It's about damn time we have someone here who can even out all the Italian cackle in the room next door. _Kan ik ook eindelijk weer eens Nederlands praten met iemand die weet waar ik het over heb_!"

I giggled. "Yeah, it will be nice to be able to speak Dutch on a regular basis," I answered in English, as much for Esme's sake–who probably didn't have an idea of what Jasper had been saying–as for mine. "So, do you need help with those?" I motioned over at the huge pile of books sitting on his desk, contents of one of those boxes I assumed.

"Yes, please," he nodded, immediately placing some of the books from his desk onto what I assumed would be my workspace.

"How about I deliver Bella here again after I'd given her the tour of the building and you can go and whine all about James then?" Esme intervened. "And please…give the girl some room to breathe and some reassurance that we aren't all socially inept grumps here or you may lose your new Dutch speaking buddy sooner rather than later."

I gave Jasper as reassuring a smile as I could muster as I followed Esme back out the door, neglecting to tell her I had 'socially inept' down to a 'T' as I listened to her as she opened doors and introduced me to a whole lot of people whose names I was sure I was going to forget before I was out of the door. Apart from Jasper and me, who were basically _Team Netherlands_, there were four researchers in the Italian section, as well as two employees focusing on restoration and conservation of the documents; one of whom–Alice–managing to sneak her way into my more permanent memory seeing as she looked pretty much like an updated version of the absinthe fairy.

Bypassing security (in fact: a lot of my tour was focused on how to do just that) we made our way back down the stairs, with Esme telling me something more about my two bosses. Aro Volturi and Marcus Hemming were partners in business as well as in life, though according to Esme, chances were I wouldn't actually meet them face to face for some time as they worked outside of the office.

Esme more than made up for their lack of physical presence, acting more like a proud mom displaying the exploits of her kids than the third-and-often-first-in-command of one of the most prestigious private research facilities in town.

I loved it.

It made me feel like home, even when my home was thousands of miles away.

By the time I made it back upstairs to my new desk, it was almost lunch time; a couple of colleagues whose names I'd already forgotten milling around in the corridor waiting for others as they chatted about the unexpected dump of library books that morning.

"You have your work cut out for you, Bella!" an older man–I believe he was called Alessandro or something–chuckled in my direction as I quickly ducked into the more quiet and still book-packed room. My new colleagues seemed nice but that didn't mean I felt safe enough to be up for interacting with them. Nope, it would probably be a couple of weeks before I would be able to lower my defenses a little, and even then…

That made me so angry sometimes knowing that part of me–the spontaneous part–would probably forever ruined by what _he_ did. Not that I'd ever been a laid back, go-with-the-flow kind of girl before but at least I had been able to react somewhat naturally when people I didn't know started to speak to me. Nowadays, all I could see was the danger in letting strangers get close.

"You're back!" Jasper's voice sounded from behind a fresh pile of books, his hands immediately starting to push a similarly impressively stack towards my side of the desk. "Time to get to work, new girl."

"Hit me!" I grinned, eagerness overtaking my natural shyness as I relished in the prospect of touching books that had once belonged to Johannes; books that had been touched by the maestro's hands. "What do you need me to do?"

"This is just the boring 'mass-production' stuff we need to get out of the way before we can get to the really interesting stuff that's still back at the Van Leyden home," Jasper explained. "As far as I know–and hope, by the way–these boxes only contain the contents of the Van Leyden library. The contents of Johannes' study will be packed and shipped by own specialists, starting as soon as we've got this group done."

I nodded. "So you want me to catalogue them?"

"Some of them, yes," Jasper answered. "I need you to filter out the Dutch books and check them against our database to see if we already have a copy of that work on our shelves–in which case we just can't afford to keep them, since we're very pressed for space." He waited, his eyes briefly glancing up to see if I was still catching on. "The rejected books will all go to libraries or will be sold to specialized stores but not, of course, before we check the covers to see if they contain notes or inscriptions that link them to Johannes."

"Because we want to keep those, right?" I grinned; my fingers already drumming against the cover of a thick, leather bound volume in their eagerness to get started.

Jasper nodded, quickly hopping up from behind his desk to show me the ropes through the institute's computer database system before we set to work to the mellow tones of In the _Land of Shadows_, Johannes van Leyden's one and only masterpiece. It seemed a fitting soundtrack to the unraveling of his life; a life still cloaked in so many secrets that it had held historians and musicians from all over the world captive in an almost maniacal fascination with the artist and his work for almost a century.

I was no exception.

In life, Johannes van Leyden had already been a slightly elusive, very secretive person and not even his untimely death in the trenches at the Somme had changed that, since his family had always refused to speak or open their home to researchers or members of the press.

Until now.

"You're a true 'Leydiaan', aren't you?" Jasper noted after we'd worked side by side in companionable silence for a while.

"I guess so," I nodded, smiling at the nickname given to those who studied the master's life and work. "Though I don't really go as far as some do."

"You mean you don't investigate his works to look for hidden messages?" Jasper snorted.

Before I could answer, the door opened to reveal two women; one being the strange and slightly scary Alice from Conservation and Repairs, the other a girl I believe was named Bree, who worked in one of the public rooms downstairs.

"Looks like neither of you will be joining us for lunch, huh?" Alice remarked, eying the boxes as she bit her lip in apparent disappointment. "Too bad, but I'll make sure I'll bring you guys something nice from the corner bakery."

"T-thanks, Alice!" In my own fascination with the almost fairy like creature, I hadn't taken in the reaction Jasper had to the arrival of our visitors–which appeared to be rather fierce.

Whether she heard him or not, Alice was already on her way, leaving a blushing Jasper behind, much to the amusement of the other female visitor. "Just ask her out, already!" Bree scolded him. "You've been crushing on the girl for months, Jazz, and I'm pretty sure she's been doing the same."

"I'm not right for her." My heart broke as Jasper hung his head in disappointment, his hair masking the forlorn expression on his face that was so nakedly apparent in his words. "She deserves to be with a guy who's cool and able to hold a conversation without stammering like a fucking idiot."

"Now why don't you let _her_ be the judge of that?" Bree countered, her head shaking from side to side as if she already realized she was fighting a lost battle. If anything, us geeks could always be counted on to be stubborn to a fault. "I'll bring you back a turkey sub."

"Thanks, Bree," Jasper muttered, his whole being screaming 'don't talk about this' as he turned his attention back to his books.

I was only too glad to give him what he wanted, my attention already back on the fresh pile of books stacked on my desk as the adagio leading up to one of the most famous areas of the opera swelled, the heart wrenching emotion of the cellos grabbing me by the throat just like the first time I'd heard it.

My hands rifled absentmindedly through a beautifully bound volume of Virgil's _Aeneid_ as I thought about the brilliance of a man's mind to be able to come up with a musical piece as intricate and complex as _'Oh, now I have truly seen the land of the shadows'_; a song capturing all it meant to have your heart broken and your life in ruins. It was almost impossible that a man who could detail all those deep felt emotions into musical score without ever having experienced them himself and yet, as far as we knew, Johannes van Leyden had led a relatively loveless life until he met the woman he married, about a year before he died. And he had remained with her until the end.

There was no indication that he had ever had his heart broken the way his two protagonists had or experienced the hopelessness Coraline-

_Wait a minute… _

My thoughts stopped as my hands came across something foreign, right around the chapter in the Aeneid where Aeneas sails away from Carthage, leaving a heartbroken Dido behind to plan her suicide.

A letter.

My heart raced as my shaky hands pulled the fragile leaf from the pages, the gloves making my movements slightly clumsy as I folded it open to reveal a neat and unfamiliar script.

A woman's handwriting.

Only one glance at the contents of the letter, dated the eleventh of October 1915, was enough to make me gasp, my hands almost dropping the letter as the realization of just how big my discovery was started to take hold. "J-Jasper?" My voice sounded like something that didn't belong to me, my eyes unable to leave the small folio for even a minute. "I…I think I've found something."

* * *

_**Thoughts? **_


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

* * *

_**A little bonus chapter to make up for last week's fail.**_

* * *

Letter: **1. **a written or printed communication addressed to a person or organization and usually transmitted by mail. **2. **a symbol or character that is conventionally used in writing and printing to represent a speech sound and that is part of an alphabet. **3. **a piece of printing type bearing such a symbol or character. **4. **a particular style of type. **5. **such types collectively.

**Letter**

_New York, the eleventh of October, 1915._

_My darling Johannes,_

_As you may have realized by now, I did not come to meet you at the docks like we had agreed. Do not worry, I am unharmed, and our plan hasn't been detected. However, over the past couple of days, as I have searched my conscience, I have found that as much as it pains me to admit it, I find myself unable to put my own needs and desires above those of my family. They depend on me and I find I cannot betray the trust and responsibility they have placed on my shoulders. _

_I wish you could see me now to know how truly sorry I am for the pain I know these words will cause, even though I know you will probably find my apologies hard to believe at this time. However, I hope that in time you may come to see my predicament for what it truly was and know the pain and difficulty that accompanied my decision. It was not one that was taken lightly or with an amount of regret I am sure to feel until the day I draw my final breath. _

_I never thought I would have to be this cruel. Please believe me that had I known then what I know now, I would never have promised myself to you or even sought you out the way I did at the Stanley's garden soiree. I would have never let it go on like this or allowed us both to entertain the hope of finally being together. But then again, they say that hindsight is always perfectly clear. In truth, my family is ruined. Thanks to my brother's reckless and ignorant speculation in the stock market, we are only a hair's breath away from bankruptcy and shame. _

_You asked me once if I could resign myself to being poor or even living the life of the common man if that meant that I would get to spend the rest of my days with you. My answer, both then and today, are a wholehearted and profound 'yes'. I love you, even in spite of what you may think of me right now. I love you and I will always love you, until the day I draw my final breath. I do, but I cannot just look at my own selfish desires and hopes. I have my family to think of now. Their futures all depend on the man I have promised myself to and because of that, I feel I cannot renege on my promise. I have to marry Henry. I __have__ to. _

_I know full well what kind of man I am about to marry and what sort of life I will lead with him. It was once my greatest fear–as you well know–but as of late it has been eclipsed by another. You saw the wretched state my dear mama was in the last time we met. She is now so frail and brittle that I fear that if she should fall, she would break into a thousand pieces. Still she bears her exile with fortitude and dignity, though I know that in her heart she pines for the comfort and security of her life in the old country. If my family would perish into the fire of financial ruin, she would lose not only the house but also the few remainders of our old life. She has lost so much already, suffered so much. I am afraid this last shock will break her completely and I fear she would not survive long if that were to happen._

_I love you Johannes, with my whole heart and soul and everything in between, but I cannot stand by and let her die so brokenhearted, knowing it was within my grasp to safe her, nor can I commit an act that will surely be the death of her even if that means I have to sacrifice my own happiness to make it happen. _

_I hope that in time you will find love again and with a woman more deserving of you than I have been. Be happy, Johannes, and do not think of what may have been but focus on what you can become. You are an amazing artist and I think that, in this land, your star will shine brighter than any other in the sky. _

_There is only one thing I wish to ask of you, selfish, despicable creature though it makes me. Please forgive me–if not now, then maybe in time–and know that I will cherish every moment I was allowed to spend with you. Know that though my life may belong to someone else by now, my heart will forever be yours and yours alone._

_A. _

* * *

_**Thoughts?**_


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

**_This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1._**

* * *

Dilemma: **1. **a situation requiring a choice between equally undesirable alternatives. **2. **any difficult or perplexing situation or problem. **3. **_Logic. _a form of syllogism in which the major premise is formed of two or more hypothetical propositions and the minor premise is a disjunctive proposition, as "If A, then B; if C then D. Either A or C. Therefore, either B or D."

**Dilemma**

"_I…I think I've found something." _

"What is it?" Jasper perks up eagerly, obviously relieved to seize a break in the monotony.

Wordlessly I hand him the letter, my heart breaking to part with it as I watch a similar reaction to mine pass over his face the moment his eyes start to drink in the ancient words. "This…it can't be, right?"

I shake my head. "As far as I know–and believe me, I've studied Johannes van Leyden's life as well and any Leydiaan–there has never been a woman in his life whose name starts with an A; let alone any recorded romance before he met Sarah Stanley." I shook my head, still unable to believe it even though the proof was right there. "It can't be real…and, yet, it is."

"Are you sure?" Judging by the tone of his voice Jasper didn't believe in his skepticism any more than I did, even though he pressed on. "This could all be some sort of hoax or something…I mean, it's not like I'd actually put it past the jackass to pull a stunt like that."

"I don't think it is. I mean…look at the yellowing on the paper and the handwriting. It all looks genuine." I shook my head, adrenaline still pulsing through my veins as slowly, but surely, the consequences of what I'd just discovered started to take hold of me.

Everything we thought we knew about Johannes van Leyden had just been put under discussion; every single thing he'd said and done in his short life was going to be put under a whole new light.

"Do you think this is what inspired '_The Land of Shadow'_?" Jasper voiced the question I was only now daring to ask myself.

"I don't know," I whispered, still staring at the letter like it was going to burst into flame any second. "The timing's right, though."

Was this mysterious 'A' the one who'd inspired all those heartbreaking aria's which, as history would have it, had been composed somewhere in between the summer of 1916 and his departure for Europe in the early summer of 1918? It seemed almost too good to be true but, if this piece of paper was as real as I believed it to be, what other logical explanation was there?

It was like the missing piece that might unravel the mystery had suddenly been dropped in my lap and I imagined only Howard Carter could have felt something like what I was feeling right now, as he first opened the doors to Tutankhamen's tomb. To a true Leydiaan like me, however, this discovery was infinitely bigger than just some post-pubescent and relatively unimportant pharaoh who'd only 'earned' his fame on the merit of having his tomb remain intact. Not that I thought a lot of the people who'd be in my graduate class would agree with me on that.

"So what do we do now?" Jasper asked, still as shocked as I was judging by the sound of his voice. "I mean…we've gotta do something, don't we?"

I nodded. "I guess we need to call this James van Leyden guy to let him know what we found."

"Are you kidding?" Jasper groaned. "I've met him a couple of times, Bella, and I can tell you the guy's a complete idiot. Really, as far as I'm concerned, he's so hungry for money that he sold his family's heritage to Aro as soon as the guy put in the right kind of offer." Jasper fumed. "The only thing that bastard will do is sell the letter to the highest bidder at some bullshit Sotheby's auction so that it will end up under lock and key instead of where it should be: in the hands of people who value it for what it _is_, instead of what it can earn them."

"But it's _his_ property," I reasoned, though inwardly there was nothing I wanted to do more than to respectfully preserve the letter and put it somewhere where no money hungry relative or auctioneer could get his or her hands on it. "It kinda belongs to him."

Jasper sat back, a devious smile pursing his lips as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. "The way I see it," he slowly drawled, his hands folding behind his crown, "James van Leyden relinquished ownership when he handed over all of his grandfather's books over to the Institute. All of the contents of these boxes, and whatever we may find inside them, is no longer his."

"Maybe," I mused, wanting nothing more than to believe him, "but would you really feel comfortable making a huge decision like that on your own?"

Jasper pouted. "I see what you mean. Don't like it, though."

"I think we should get in touch with our boss," I persisted. "If he agrees with you, we go ahead with our research. If not…"

"The pompous asshole will be sitting on another little goldmine," Jasper finished for me, opening his desk drawer to hand me a special plastic sleeve, used to temporarily itemize and store loose papers and letters. "I'll shoot off an e-mail to Aro, telling him we need to talk to him about something important as soon as he gets in again."

"When do you think that is?" I wondered, keeping Esme's statement in mind.

"With any luck, he'll remember what we're working on and will be so intrigued by the vagueness of my e-mail that he's willing to skip out on his usual tee-off time to take a look at what we've got," Jasper shrugged. "If not, who knows?"

Fortunately for the two of us, though, apparently my new boss could always be counted on to be intrigued when one of his minions sent him an elusive e-mail, so almost as soon as Aro Volturi's face had disappeared from the news channels detailing the handover of the Van Leyden archive, Jasper received a reply on his cell phone just as we were sitting down to eat our lunch, telling us to meet him in his office at four-thirty.

"Told ya so!" Jasper grinned smugly as he chewed through the final bits of his turkey sub.

"You also weren't lying about that James van Leyden-guy," I went on, still feeling an uneasy feeling in my bones just from watching the guy alone, even if it was only on television. There was something about him that set all my alarms off. "There's something off about him."

"Just wait until you see his wife," Jasper snorted, throwing his empty lunch wrappings in the garbage as we got up from our seats in the break room to go through the process of disinfecting our hands and pulling fresh gloves on before getting back to work. "She's about as scary as they come, with all of her fake hair, fake nails and fake…everything."

I just hoped I'd never had to meet her as I shot a nervous smile in Jasper's direction before I set back to work; the process of rifling through books and sorting them in 'yes' and 'no' piles soon getting tedious without any more major finds to be done that afternoon.

The hands on the clock seemed to crawl forward until, finally, we locked up for the day as we set out in search of our boss, finding his office occupied only by Esme, who told us Mr. Volturi was expected to arrive any minute.

When he finally blazed in–expensive and excessive cologne, and vibrant designer clothes–I forgot to be nervous and even scared for a minute, so completely baffled by his exuberant, over-the-top persona.

"Miss Swan!" he called, his voice hinting at a faint Italian accent. "It's such a pleasure to finally meet you. I trust you have made it safely here from the other side of 'The Pond'?"

I had to take a minute to catch what he actually meant before I was able to reply, his expressive ways making me feel rather nervous but not in the way I'd expected to be. I was nervous simply for him being my boss, not because of the other stuff that usually crippled me in situations like these. "I did, sir."

"And she's already proving to be a very valuable asset, Aro," Esme, who'd been updated by the two of us as we waited for Mr. Volturi to arrive, chimed in. "Please, Bella, tell him what you found earlier today."

Smiling nervously I produced the plastic folder from where it had been safely protected on my lap. Mr. Volturi's eyes grew wide, just like mine had, the minute his eyes started to drink in the elegant script on the page. "Miss Swan–_Bella_–you're somewhat of a connoisseur in this field are you not?" He waited for me to nod before he continued. "Can you confirm whether or not we know of an 'A' in relation to Johannes van Leyden."

"I don't believe we do, sir," I answered, feeling more and more uncomfortable as the atmosphere in the room started to shift from jovial relaxation to something else–something tense. "At least, not until I found this letter."

"Aro," Mr. Volturi corrected me. "We keep a pretty relaxed working atmosphere here so I'd prefer if you'd call me Aro instead of sir."

"Oh," I muttered, my hands folding in my lap as an antidote to the urge to run that was getting stronger and stronger with every second. "Okay."

"Bella and I weren't sure whether or not to contact the van Leyden estate with this new find, seeing as they are in the process of transferring his estate to us," Jasper took over, "so we decided to leave the matter up to you."

"You did very well," Aro nodded, sitting back in his huge, leather office chair as his eyes remained transfixed on the letter. For a moment, as I watched him, I wasn't sure whether or not he was as money hungry as Jasper had described the van Leyden heir; the cool, calculating power of his stare as my new boss debated his options making cold shivers run down my spine. "Given the circumstances and the upheaval it would cause to go public with this letter right now," Aro mused, "I think caution would be the best option for the time being."

Jasper nodded, this smile widening because he knew as well as I did that 'caution' meant: bury the document until we see fit to go public with it. "I think that's probably for the best."

"Good." The nod of his head was universal sign language for 'you're dismissed', but as both Esme and Jasper scrambled to get out of the room and on their way home, a call of my name made me stop.

_Shit_. I could feel my skin prickling as the door closed in front of me, leaving me alone in a room with a person of authority_. Just like then._ "Y-you wanted something Mister…erm…Aro?"

"Just to find out how you're settling in." While I was sure his tone was meant to be reassuring as he'd undoubtedly picked up on my spiking fear, it only half-succeeded in making me feel more at ease. Meanwhile he shifted his dark, Italian eyes pierced right through me as they narrowed slightly. "Do you find your new colleagues agreeable?"

"Yes," I answered honestly. "Everyone's been very nice to me so far."

"Good," he nodded pensively. "We always strive to make everyone feel at home here at the Volturi Institute, and with a new addition to our team that has come as highly recommended by one of our most important associates as you were…Well, we are quite eager to hold on to you. I know it's cliché but I think of our team as a little family and choose any new addition to the team with that in mind." He sat back as I listened aphetically, trying not to cringe at the blatant cliché. "So, Bella, do you think you will become a permanent member of the Volturi family?"

Coming from his mouth, the words sounded almost incestuous and I had to admit they made me feel anxious to get the hell out of this office. "I-I think so."

"Excellent." Aro's smile wasn't half as winning as it was creepy as he leaned forward. "In that case, I probably won't have to explain where your loyalties should lie, do I?"

I sucked in a small gasp, the thinly veiled threat–_or was it?–_in combination to the reference to my mentor, Professor Kai Verweylen, who'd been instrumental in landing me this position, making it perfectly clear to me what he was trying to communicate: 'do not tell Kai or anyone else about the letter and anything else you may find, or your ass will be on the street faster than a speeding bullet.'

"I-I understand, sir," I stammered, my nerves almost frantic by that time. _Please, just let me go…_

"Very well," Aro beamed, leaning back again. "I have a feeling you will do great thing for this Institute, my dear. That will be all."

I was out of his office faster than Usain Bolt could sprint the hundred meters, my hands still shaking as I quickly grabbed my purse before hightailing it out of the place, only to catch up with Esme on my way down the stairs.

"You look like you've seen a ghost!" she chuckled, barely catching me as I lost my footing on the top few steps. "Though seeing as you just came from Aro's office, that's not such a surprise. The man can be a bit…much sometimes."

_So it isn't just me. _I drew a quick breath of relief at Esme's understanding as we silently traveled the rest of the way down and slipped past security where a young man was waiting for Esme. Or should I say a young giant? Since the guy was positively enormous.

"Bella, meet my son, Emmett," Esme beamed as she introduced me to her boy like a proud mother hen. For a moment I felt sorry for the poor, slender woman for having to push someone like that out of her body. "Em, this is our latest addition, Bella Swan."

"And what an addition!" I could feel my cheeks heating at his words and even more so at the way he let his eyes wander all over my body, making me feel equal parts awkward and dirty.

"I-I have to go," I lied because, really, I didn't have anywhere to go except home to an empty apartment and a microwave meal.

"It was nice to meet you, Bella Swan!" Emmett called after me as I managed to conjure up a smile as I tried to make my escape in a way that didn't make it so blatantly obvious that I was, in fact, escaping.

What a day!

Walking up the stairs to my apartment, my mind was assaulted by all the impressions my first day on the job had left with me. My colleagues were all very nice and I was proud to say that, even though Jasper was a man, he didn't scare me nearly as much as I'd feared. In fact, there was something about him that had immediately put me at ease and allowed me to act normal for a change.

Apparently, miracles did happen.

Then there was Esme; the woman who'd made good on Aro's statement that the Volturi Institute was just one big family even if the thought of being related to the man–and boss–himself in any way made my skin break out in hives.

And then, of course there was the letter. The letter that shook every fact us Leydiaans had held sacred over the years on its foundations.

I couldn't wait to get back to that one tomorrow; the hope of finding more clues about the identity of 'A' prospering in my subconscious and filling me with all sorts of thoughts of future discoveries that the rational side of me–the historian's side–knew to be completely irrational.

After all, history was about finding pieces of the puzzle and trying to connect them, not about having a complete set handed to you intact and still in its original box.

No, I had to resign myself to the idea that this was all I may be able to find about this 'A' and that one way or another, I would have to connect the dots from the flimsy facts that had come out about Johannes van Leyden's personal life. It made my heart bounce in my chest to think about who 'A' might be and what the letter might stand for. A nickname? An initial?

Johannes must have been close to her at some point. At least, that was what the letter implied. What would it have done to him to hold it in his hands and read those words? Had his heart been broken? The fact that he'd decided to keep it hidden in one of the most heart wrenching scenes of the _Odyssey_ told me it had. And add on to that the fact that the letter was dated right around the time he would have started composing _The Land of Shadow_…

"Bella?" I jumped, almost crashing to the filthy floor as suddenly a door opened to my right and Leah stepped out into the light. "Oh, I'm so sorry I scared you! Are you just getting home?"

I nodded, trying to recompose myself. "First day of work."

"Ah!" Her face lit up as if I'd just shared the secrets of the universe with her. "That explains why you didn't answer the door when the mailman came around this morning. " She chuckled when I frowned in confusion, and quickly explained. "You have a package…I think it's from your parents."

_Mom and dad_. As always the thought of them filled me both with happiness and guilt, though gratitude weighed in strongly as Leah shoved a huge cardboard box into the hallway. "Just let me know if they're open to adoption," she joked. "Oh and if you're not too tired, you're more than welcome to join me and my brother for dinner. I made way too much–even by Jake's standard–as usual." She rolled her eyes as if her overcooking was a daily vexation in her life. "Believe me: you'll be doing me a favor."

The debate in my mind was quick, especially with Rose's words of empowerment as we said goodbye a few days ago still, ringing in my ear. It was all very fine and dandy not to trust the rest of the world and to lock yourself away from it all, but when good people came around to offer you their help, turning away from them would turn caution into a handicap.

And after all, didn't Angela trust these people?

"Thanks!" I replied, trying to disguise my nervousness as well as I could as I took a huge leap of faith. "You saved me from a very unappealing microwave meal."

"Well, it remains to be seen how much I 'saved' you," Leah teased, "but the company will be much better, I promise. So how about you get rid of that box and join us? Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes."

I had twenty minutes of being in my mind, which wasn't always the most sane and wholesome place to be. But what felt like only minutes later, I was seated around a small table, with a toddler to my left and a huge and slightly dust-covered guy to my right.

Seriously, was there something in the water in this place that made all the guys grow into disproportional shapes?

"You'll have to excuse Jake," Leah spoke to me as she dished out the food, though I couldn't escape the notion that her words were more directed at her brother than at me. "The benefits of soap and water are sometimes completely lost on my brother."

"Hey!" Jake complained, his easy grin and warm manners letting me loosen some of my defenses. "I don't have anything against showers or soap for that matter. I just don't see the point in postponing food when I'm fucking hungry just because I still have some dust from the building site sticking to my hair."

"You reek, little bro!" Leah countered. "So, Bella, do you see what I have to put up with on a daily bases? Between this little poop factory over here…" she pointed at her son who, obliviously happy, was smearing food all over his face as he stubbornly tried to feed himself. "…and my brother stinking up the place, I'm not exactly spoiled for good company."

Jacob tried to protest but one look from his sister shut him up as he turned his attention back on me. "So how do you like New York, Bella?"

"It's been everything I expected it to be," I replied honestly. "It's weird being back in the US and having everyone around me speaking English, after having lived in Europe for so long. It's kind of nice just walk into a store and find all the brands that I've known since I was a kid. Besides, the people aren't so bad."

"Aren't so bad?" Leah giggled. "You flatter us."

I shrugged, blushing. "I've met a lot of amazing people so far but there have also been some I've encountered that fit right into the prejudice people have about New Yorkers being rude."

"Do tell," Leah insisted. "Nice people are boring, if you'd ask me. It's the assholes of this world that make for the best stories."

"I guess you're right," I chuckled before launching into an account of my first dealing with rude, cutthroat New Yorkers, right in our building and on the first day I'd arrived.

But unlike what I expected, my account wasn't received with laughter. Instead, looks of concern and maybe even anger flashed across their faces when I told my story. "Bella," Jake asked me in an alarmingly serious voice. "Have you seen this guy again after that day?"

I nodded, launching into a story of what I'd seen at the community center and what Rose had told me afterwards, ending with the warning Rose had pressed into my mind. "She's right," Leah nodded; her face as solemn as her brother's as she nervously sought his approval. "This Masen guy is not the kind of guy you want to hang out with."

"I gathered that much from the one time we actually met." I nodded, even though, as logical as their warning seemed, there was something holding me back from believing them. This was the second time, someone had warned me about Edward Masen.

And as much as part of me resisted it, I was beginning to see a pattern here.

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_**Thoughts?**_


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

Redemption: **1. **an act of redeeming or atoning for a fault or mistake, or the state of being redeemed. **2. **deliverance; rescue. **3. **_Theology _. deliverance from sin; salvation. **4. **atonement for guilt. **5. **repurchase, as of something sold.

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_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

* * *

**Redemption**

I shouldn't have been surprised to find Tanya waiting for me the next morning; her arms crossed and her face telling me bullshit would not be accepted. "Care to tell me what _the fuck_ was going on last night?"

I groaned, rubbing my face. "Jeez, Tan! Give a fucker some time to drink his coffee before you lay into him!"

"You. Left." she spat out, her eyes doing that really scary thing where they seemed to be on fire. "You didn't answer your phone; you didn't shoot me a message or a send fucking carrier pigeon…you just left. How was I supposed to know that the whore you took outside to fuck hadn't sold you out to some gang, huh?" she barked. "For all I knew you were slowly bleeding to death in some alley."

"Which I wasn't," I grumbled, feeling like some five year old who'd run away from his mommy.

"And how was I to know that when your fucking phone was turned off?" Tanya fumed. "Seriously, Edward, couldn't you have just come in for _one fucking minute_ to tell us you were heading home?"

I shrugged, feeling really over this shit. "Can we just drop this, okay?"

"Sometimes it's like I don't know you anymore." The tone of her voice kind of scared me. It was almost like she was giving up on me just when I was trying to pull my act together again. "I don't know what to do, Edward, I don't know how to help you. Don't you see what you're doing to yourself?"

"Just…" I sighed, really feeling the urge to smoke even though I'd quit a couple of months ago when cigarettes were starting to get too expensive and Tanya point-blank refused to pay for my habit. "I'm trying to change, okay but…I'm stuck, T. I don't know what I want anymore."

"Go back to school, Edward," she insisted, just like she had so many times before. "You were so close to graduating and composing music...it always made you look so at peace. You need that again."

"It's part of my past life," I shrugged, my throat burning as I took a huge gulp from my scalding hot coffee. "With everything else about my life turning out to be fake, I don't even know if it's what I want anymore." I knew it was a lie, though. I'd never be done with music. It was in my fucking blood; my nature. Just like the messed up hair, the green eyes and the screwed up personality. It was _me_.

"Don't worry about those damn bills," Tanya scolded. "You know you're always welcome here."

"Like mooching off my friend is going to make me feel better!" I snorted, rolling my eyes as my fingers mimicked the movement of rolling a smoke, even though they remained sadly empty. _For now. _

"Just picture yourself in front of an orchestra paying your music," Tanya persisted. "Or even better: picture yourself alone in a room with a blank page of sheet music in front of you as the sounds start to take shape in your head…start to form music." Regardless of my resistance, I did just that; the familiar feeling of an almost zen-like trance washing over me like a warm blanket and giving me a peace I hadn't known for a long time.

Until Tanya's voice broke through, sounding as smug as she probably would have looked if I'd bothered to open my fucking eyes. "Now can you honestly say that composing music was just something you did because you thought it would make your family happy?"

"No," I deflated like a fucking soufflé; the longing to make music was stronger than ever. It was in my bones…no in my whole damn being; an urge desperate to be brought out again.

"Then contact the peeps at Juilliard," Tanya shrugged, like that was something you just did. "I'm sure some of our old professors will be more than happy to work something out."

"Not for free," I huffed, pursing my lips as my eyes drew towards the window.

"So you're really going to ruin your life because of the money?" Tanya cried incredulously. "That's fucked up and you know it!"

I shrugged, flicking the rim of my now empty coffee cup. "I'm not taking any more money from you, and seeing as the other option is out of the question…"

"What about your trust fund?" Tanya tried and I really had to give her mad props for that, even if she was starting to get on my nerves a little. "I know your mom's will states thirty but there has to be some sort of loophole, or emergency clause or something."

"I could try," I hedged, more for her sake than for mine, though I had to admit that the prospect of going back to school and finishing what I started–but, most of all, having music occupy my days again –made me happier than I had been in a while. "I'm meeting Jenks in a couple of hours anyway. He'll know if there's anything we could try."

She smiled, her eyes slightly relieved though it still killed me to see the sadness there. "Don't fuck up your life, Edward. Not when you're as brilliant as I know you are."

I snorted, shaking my head. "As if my head needed to be bigger than it already is!"

"Just saying," she snickered. "I mean, the two of us...we're supposed to be the best things that ever came out of Juilliard, so if you fuck up and fail to compose me that opera you promised me–you know, the one that would make fucking legends out of the two of us?–I'll kick your ass into next Wednesday."

I could probably have reminded Tanya of the fact that she was a star all because of her own talents but, like me, her head didn't needed to be bigger than it already was so I just shut the hell up, settling instead for getting both of us seconds of coffee from her fancy fucking machine. It was a good thing I'd had a lot of time on my hands lately, or I would have had to settle for that overpriced piss they sold at Starbucks.

Just like any person who actually had a life–probably meaning every damn fucker in this city but me–Tanya had to go off and do her thing, meeting up with her private tutor. She looked about as eager as I did at the prospect of meeting with my lawyer later that day, seeing as she would probably be on the receiving end of one hell of a lecture after last night's shenanigans.

Tanya knew as well as I did that the opera greats didn't hang out in nightclubs, staying up late and ruining their voices but I guess that, just like me, there was still a bit of a rebel inside of her somewhere.

Later, entering the legal offices of _Johnson and Jenks_ made me feel _this_ small; the in-your-face marble and elegant-yet-flashy furniture in stark contrast to the way I was dressed; worn down jeans, chucks and my usual leather jacket which had seen better days as well. Going on the way I was greeted, though, you would have thought the fucking president had just walked in; the masses parting and everyone looking at me with a fucking weird sort of orgasmic smile on their faces. I snorted, shaking my head as I walked straight through to Jenks' office no matter how much the bitch at the front desk tried to stop me. The only thing those fuckers saw when they looked at me, was my dad's bank account and all the billable hours his wayward son had brought them.

"Edward!" If Jenks was annoyed by me barging in unannounced, he didn't show it. _Too many billable hours at stake, I guess._ "It's a pleasant change to see you arrive on time for once."

"I'm nothing, if not unpredictable," I shrugged, throwing my ass down in the seat across from him, the enormous desk filled with files and coffee between us. "So, what's new?"

"I've been trying to get the lay of the land on your case, so to speak," Jenks started, keeping his words vague like a true lawyer would, "but I have to say that the prospects are rather bleak this time, Edward."

"Rather bleak?" I arched a brow, unsure whether that meant he would have to work just an extra bit harder to get me out of my mess this time, or if the DA would seek the fucking death penalty against me. _Now, I'm just being rather overly-goddamn-dramatic myself._

"They won't let the matter drop," Jenks explained himself, his words already putting me on edge before he really went in for the kill. "In fact, they're not even that eager to settle. I think the DA wants to make a case out of this to show all the other entitled, Upper East Side shits–no offense, of course–that this isn't the way to rebel against their rich mommies and daddies–again, no offense."

"None taken." I smiled wryly. "Though, you are making it pretty damn hard for me not to be offended. So what's next?"

"We try to get the DA's office on our page and if that fails, I'll do my best to get you the best possible outcome," Jenks answered, the way he carefully avoided the words 'jail time' was not being lost on me. _Fuck!_ "We're working hard for you, kid, but the best thing you can do yourself in the meantime is try and stay out of trouble."

"I'm trying my best," I answered, shrugging under his poignant stare. "In fact, that's kinda what I want to talk to you about?"

"Really?" Jenks looked pleasantly surprised, though there was a sort of reservation to his relief that left some space for my plan to be a total bust.

"I want to go back to school and finish my degree," I explained. "If I get my degree, then maybe I can get a job or a teaching gig somewhere…but the point is, I don't want Tanya or Dad to pay for it."

"I'm afraid you may not have that much of a choice in the matter," Jenks sighed. "As much as I'm in favor of your plan…let's face it: it's not like you have a lot of cash stowed away at the bank."

"But I do have a trust fund," I countered. "The only problem is that I have to be thirty before I can touch it."

Jenks smiled, finally catching on. "So you want me to tell you whether or not there's a way around that clause?" He chuckled. "You're smart, kid. You should have gone into law."

"Nah, I would have been bored to death," I snickered, the thought alone of having to hoist my ass into some suit every morning giving me hives. "So, do you think I have a shot?"

Jenks shrugged; the uneasy set of his shoulders already cluing me in that if there was an opening in the trust-fund documentation, it would come with one hell of a 'but' attached. "There is a clause added that provides for emergency circumstances…" he hedged. "But…" _Ah, there it is_. "Any override on the original set-up of the fund or any withdrawal from the account will have to be signed and approved by your dad."

_Well, shit_.

"Now, why didn't I think of that?" I groaned. Of course, just because in the end, before it all went down, I already hated him for never being there (even when he was) didn't mean that mom agreed with me. No, she kept on worshipping him like a god right until the very end, when the proof became too clear for her to deny.

"Would it be so hard to just talk to him?" Jenks tried, just like I knew he would. "I know the two of you have had your differences–" He held up his hand to stop me from arguing as he knew I would. "And I know you have a lot to be mad at your dad about but both of you are stuck right now, and unless one of you is able to be the bigger person and open up a line of communications, things are never going to get better."

As much as I hated the thought of it, I had to agree that he had a point. After all, wasn't it what that fucked up feeling I'd been carrying around with me was all about?

We were stuck. It didn't exactly take a fucking degree in psychology to see that, especially not with my friends all going places and doing shit with their lives while I was literally stuck living off my best friend's fucking money.

"I'll keep it in mind," I sighed, already getting up to get the hell out of the office before Jenks decided to mess with my mind some more. "See you in a couple of weeks?"

"I'll get in touch as soon as there's something to report," Jenks nodded, his attention already halfway back to the mess of paperwork on his desk. "Take care of yourself, Edward, and, for God's sake, keep out of trouble, will ya?"

I chuckled, winking at some stuck up lawyer bitch that looked at me like I was only seconds away from robbing her as I marched my ass back out of the office building, only breathing a full fucking breath when I was back on the streets. "Well, that was…interesting," I muttered, looking around me as I thought about what I'd do next–which was the tricky thing about being a fuck-up. You had so much damn time on your hands that 'just hanging out' kind of started to lose its appeal.

_You can always do what Jenks said and go see your dad_. A little voice in the back of my mind crept up on me from the middle of nowhere, making me want to smash me head into a brick wall just to shut it the fuck up. That was…if the idea didn't start to sink its claws into my brain. _What would be so bad about popping in to see the old man? It's not like you have anything better to do. Besides, you need him to approve the money-scheme, no?_

Before I could fucking stop myself, I was on my way to New York Presbyterian, figuring I really needed the cash to get to a better fucking place in life and that prolonging the inevitable was only going to make it harder for me to ask. Yeah, even I was driving myself crazy.

I didn't know what I expected to find when I got there but, even though dad's office was still in the same place, I had to admit I felt kind of disappointed when Nurse Perfect told me he was still in surgery.

From the way her eyes widened when she asked for my name, I guessed that news about the wayward son had traveled around the fucking office during the years he and I hadn't seen eye to eye; the door to dad's private sanctuary opening like the gates of heaven as Nurse Perfect told me to take a seat.

And so the waiting began.

After about fifteen minutes of sitting there, wishing dad had a fucking flat screen or something else except for these boring old medical magazines, Nurse Perfect came back in to ask if I wanted a drink or something else. I debated ordering a beer just to freak the bitch out, but just settled for a coke in the end.

After about forty-five minutes of waiting around, I managed to his little en-suite (and really fucking swanky) bathroom, where I took a much needed leak after all that coke and, of course, had Nurse Perfect walk into the office just as I was coming out, zipping up my pants, to give me the latest update.

Which basically boiled down to: he's still in surgery.

I debated putting the moves on her, especially after I caught her blush, even if only to make time go faster, but decided in the end it wasn't worth it. After last night's debacle I was kind of trying to avoid having anonymous sex for a while and, even if I hadn't, finding me fucking his secretary on his own desk–_again_–probably wasn't going to make him more likely to give me money.

An hour and a half into my wait, she brought me a sandwich and another drink, her smile tight and slightly sad as she promised to send someone in to let dad know I was waiting for him and to ask how long he'd be.

Forty-five minutes later she was back, her sad fucking eyes already telling me before she opened her mouth to announce that it would still be some time before dad would be done.

"Is he trying to create some sort of fucking Frankenstein or something?" I snapped, running my hand through my hair as I sighed. "Fuck…sorry."

She smiled understandingly. "I could make you an appointment for tomorrow? Or you could just wait? I can get you something else to eat if you want…"

"No, I have somewhere to be," I growled, getting more pissed off with him by the minute after I'd wasted away my afternoon in the hopes the fucker had changed at least a bit. Apparently Jenks had been lying through his fucking teeth when he told me dad really, really, really wanted to make amends. _Make amends, my ass! If he really wanted that, he would have fucking been here for me. _

I growled, scrambling around his desk to find a piece of paper because I wanted to leave something to remind him that I. Was. Fucking. Here. I wanted him to read it and know just what a jackass he'd been to take my fucking olive branch and slap me right in the face with it. I had half a mind to just scribble my note across some chart and I would have done it too if it hadn't been for the fact that I'd probably mess up some poor schmuck's medical treatment by doing so.

There had been enough collateral damage already.

_This, right here, was your chance to change shit between us and you missed it. I guess I should have known you had made your choice a long time ago. I guess I know where I stand now. Your son_

Leaving the note, I hightailed it out of there. Luckily Nurse Perfect was on the phone when I blazed past or I would have had to explain to her why the thought of hanging around in dad's fucking office for another minute was completely disgusting to me. Besides, I had classes to teach and how were the kids of the Bronx ever going to grow up to become lousy pianists if I sat around waiting in my that numb nut's office all day long?

Ducking into the subway, I barely made it to the community center on time for my first class of the afternoon. Even though the kids were really trying to destroy that poor fucking piano and the usually soothing tones of _Fur Elise_, I couldn't keep my head in the game. Instead my mind was constantly drifting back to the massive fail the past twenty-four hours had been and how, without dad, there really was no way to turn that shit around unless I wanted to go into even greater debt with my best friend.

But if I wanted to make something of myself…of my life, what other option did I have but to go crawling back to Tanya and beg her for even more money than she'd already given me? Shaking my head, I tried to force myself back in the game before I hurt some poor kid's feelings and was forced to hate myself even more–if that was at all fucking possible.

I barely managed to make it through my classes, my body and mind completely worn out by the time I was done which, of course, didn't make me look where the fuck I was going as I stumbled my way back out the door.

"Watch it, you fucking idiot!" a familiar voice hissed, hands pushing me away with far too much force to belong to a proper kind of woman. _And whaddaya know? It's Rose Hale. The most improper woman I've ever known. _

"Stay out of my fucking way, Hale!" I growled, barely resisting the urge to vent all my frustration upon her.

"Oh, what, poor little rich boy's had a bad day?" she cooed, her voice dripping with evil as she grinned at me like some Cheshire-cat-from-hell. "Well, newsflash. This is how the other half lives and if you don't like it you'd better crawl on up to your plush little Upper East Side mansion."

"I'm not…" I started, my fists balling by my side until my mind flashed back to last night and the girl that had been with her–_Weird Girl_; the memory of her triggering a road to absolution I hadn't even thought to explore. "You know Weird Girl."

"Weird Girl?" Rose looked at me like my brain had just fried–which might not have been so far from the truth.

"The girl you were with at the bar last night?" I watched as recollection and fierce protection flashed over her face as Rose gave me a look I imagined she gave those dummies she kicked the fucking crap out of in self-defense class; my hand subconsciously wandering south to protect my junk. "I-I'm afraid I might not have been exactly…nice to her the other day and I want to apologize so…"

"You're actually asking me for her number?" Rose cried, her tall Amazonian body squaring up against me. "You've got a lot of guts asking _me_! After everything you did, you bastard!"

I managed to duck out of way before she could yell any more at me or start practicing her self-defense on a live subject; my attempts at playing nice for the day utterly defeated as I tapped out the door, once again hankering for a smoke.

"I heard you were asking about Bella," a tiny female spoke next to me, her appearance from out of nowhere really making me jump (though I'd rather cut off a testicle than admit it).

"Bella?" I scrambled.

"The girl who was with Rose and me the other day?" She flashed me that oh-my-God-I-can't-believe-how-slow-you-are look that all women seemed to be equipped with. "Her name is Bella and she lives in my building."

"And you're sharing this with a total stranger because…" As much as I wanted to know where Weird Girl–I mean _Bella_–lived, I really wasn't too happy about this chick throwing the information around.

"I've seen you around this place," she explained, dead calm. "No guy who makes kids smile like you do could ever be a secret axe murderer or rapist."

"Right," I nodded, slightly scared by her logic. "So she lives in your building?"

"Fourth floor, apartment 4B," she nodded. "Be kind to her, she deserves it."

I nodded, memorizing the address she had given me as I felt a tiny spark of hope for the first time in God only knew how fucking long. Maybe it was too late to save my relationship with dad but if I was going to go anywhere towards redeeming myself, I had to start somewhere.

_This_, would be my starting point.

* * *

_**Thoughts?**_


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

* * *

Hell: **1. **the place or state of punishment of the wicked after death; the abode of evil and condemned spirits; Gehenna or Tartarus. **2. **any place or state of torment or misery: _They made their father's life a hell on earth. _**3. **something that causes torment or misery: _Having that cut stitched without anesthesia was hell. _**4. **the powers of evil. **5. **the abode of the dead; Sheol or Hades.

* * *

**Hell**

It was my first day of graduate school and the rain was pouring down. No really, like I-need-to-find-some-wood-to-build-an-ark hard. And that was saying something, coming from the girl who grew up in one of the rainiest places on the continental US, and had just come home from a three year stay in a country known for being wet and rainy (and mostly below sea level even).

Dad called me just as I was eating breakfast; his early day coinciding with mine as we chatted on the phone about the kind of stuff we'd have talked about if I'd have stayed at home. Apparently, Mrs. Newton was getting ready to set her son up with yet another date when he came home for Thanksgiving; the girls in their family's store always proving grateful potential-daughter-in-law material, even though I was quite certain none of them would ever end up being such. Not if Tyler had anything to say about it, anyway.

_Poor Mike!_

"So how's the new job, Bells?" he inquired in his usual, so happily familiar cop-voice. "Everyone treatin' ya good over there, baby girl?"

I smiled, closing my eyes as I let the familiarity of dad trying to hear me out about the new stuff in my life, wash over me. "It's been great so far. My bosses are really nice and the guy I'm sharing my office with has been very kind so far."

"A guy, huh?" I could tell my dad's spidey senses were on full alert. "Are you sure that's something you want to be doing, pumpkin? It doesn't make you feel uncomfortable after…you know?"

"It's okay, Dad," I sighed, trying to feel grateful instead of horribly cramped about his over-protectiveness. "Things between us aren't like that. We're just friends."

"Just friends." Dad mulled it over as if he wasn't completely convinced such a thing existed. "Well, you keep your eyes open, Bells, because unless this boy is playing more up Mike's alley, you can never be sure about a guy's intentions. Believe me; I've seen where this can end up more times than I can count, unfortunately."

"It's not like that!" I repeated, sighing as I tried to avoid being taken back to dad's more 'in your face' lessons on 'being safe'. "Wait...you know about Mike?"

"I'm a cop, Bells," he chuckled. "Being a good judge of character comes with the territory. And Mike…it's not like the boy's good at hidin' in that closet of his, if you catch my drift."

"He's not," I snickered. "Just do me a favor, Dad, and never mention this to his parents, okay? Mike's terrified of how they will react."

"Knowing them, I can't really blame him," my dad gruffed, his opinion of the Newtons not exactly being a secret in my house. "Look, baby girl, I have to go in. Talk to you later?"

"Absolutely!" I promised, a look at the clock telling me it was about time I got ready too. "Kiss Mom from me, will you?"

Rushing through the rest of my morning routine, I dashed out of the house with only minutes to spare, the rain managing to soak me to the bone in spite of my jacket and umbrella on the short distance to the subway station. The train was overcrowded but I'd already learned that it was more like a rule than an exception around here–and pretty much around public transport everywhere–some crazy dude singing the appropriate Fred Astaire classic as I tried to save what was left of the clean, professional I'm-about-to-start-my-graduate-program look I'd spent time trying to put together.

I guess I still looked the part, if not for the face above the cheap jacket and uncomfortable cheap-but-expensive-looking slacks looking like it belonged to a drowned cat, with hair sticking out like I'd just been electrocuted then hosed down with a pressure washer.

Pushing through the equally soggy masses, I somehow managed to get to the university on time, my eyes following the signs that seemed to be universal for universities around the globe until I found myself in the familiar surroundings of the history department–even though I'd never actually visited this particular history department.

Like with the archives, there was something in the air surrounding historians and the ancient books that usually came hand in hand with them that immediately put me at ease; the prospect of at least being with the kind of people who 'got' me making me feel less stressed than I would have. And I guess the fact that my boss would actually be my mentor as well as the person who'd overseen both my bachelor's and my master's dissertations didn't exactly hurt either.

"Ms. Swan!" It looked almost like he'd been waiting for me; his wide smile growing as he approached me, one hand already stretched out in front of him to grab mine as the other smoothed down his tweed jacket. "It's been too long. _Hoe gaat het_?"

"_Goed_, _Professor Verweylen,"_ I answered, confirming that I was indeed well as I shook his hand. "En met u?" Being around him, it was easy to forget what had happened between me and Professor Banner, though God only knew it had taken me the better part of three years and lots of appointments both with him and with my therapist to get here. Professor Verweylen…he was just such a summit of all things good and friendly that, being around him, it was simply unfathomable that he would ever do harm to another human being. Apart from my parents, he was one of the few people I trusted in this world. _Really_ trusted.

And now I had to lie to him.

"I can't complain," Caius replied in that characteristic thick accent of his, even though he had been traveling between Amsterdam and New York for most of his adult life. He'd been the Professor who had taken me under his wing when I first arrived in Amsterdam and who'd mentored me ever since, sharing my strange fascination for early twentieth century Dutch history and its artists and making sure that when he aided in acquiring the van Leyden archives for the Volturi Institute, his protégé–_me_–was placed in a position she would stand to benefit hugely from. "Look, I can't talk for long because I have an appointment with the Dean in half an hour but I'll quickly show you around before I deliver you in the capable hands of Professor Arkham. You're taking Advanced Historical Theory, right?"

I smirked as I nodded. As a historian, my passion lay with actual history, not with the way historians had written about it over the ages. On paper, Historical Theory hadn't looked so bad at first, though. In fact, I'd found the thought of taking a step back and looking at the _way_ my chosen field operated instead of _what_ operated it, had seemed quite interesting. That was, until I found out that getting through to the core of Historical Theory was something that required the mind of a genius, especially since most of the people teaching the subject required no less from their students and were–without exception–crazy. And I could tell, seeing as I'd experienced the dangers of Historical Theory on both sides of the Atlantic.

Professor Arkham proved on close inspection, to be no different, though I had great hopes that his particular brand of crazy veered more towards my slightly eccentric and completely unintelligible professor I'd experienced in Amsterdam and not like the one in Seattle…

Sitting in his classroom, my thoughts soon got distracted, no matter how much I tried to keep them focused on the subject matter. The direction they went in was only a couple of miles away, to my desk at the Volturi Institute and the treasure that lay hidden inside there. Part of me felt guilty for not sharing my find with Caius as I knew I should.

_Loyalty_.

Deep down I was well aware that I was probably showing loyalty to the wrong man out of the two, but with my dream job in Aro's hands I couldn't risk sharing my secret with my mentor.

For now.

I only came back to my senses near the end of the class, when Professor Arkham started to explain about the assignment that would take up most of this tutorial; a list of books to be analyzed doing the rounds as everyone got their chance to sign up. By the time it reached me, of course, precious little books were left to choose from, leaving me with Michel Foucault's _Discipline and Punish_, a book Professor Arkham had just announced to be horribly difficult to get to the bottom of. _Yep, this is definitely one of those days…_

"And now, before you're all dismissed," the professor concludes as the list made its way back to him, "I have a very special announcement to make. It's not very often that we can manage to ensnare one of the greats in our field to give a guest lecture but this year I have managed to persuade one of our countries greats in the field of Historical Theory to give a series of guest lectures about his latest contribution to the field, and also be available to examine some of your work during the tutorials."

I could feel my whole body fly into panic mode as I heard the professor speak his voice sounding further and further way the more I fell into my state of terror. _No...Please not him…no. _

"I am sure you will be as happy as I am to welcome Professor Demetri Banner from the University of Washington to our classroom in a couple of weeks," Professor Arkham meanwhile droned on, confirming what I'd already known.

Somehow I managed to get out of the classroom and the building without drawing unwanted attention to myself, my whole being trapped in my thoughts as I tried to breathe through the anxiety just like my therapist had taught me to. _I should have known… my life's been too good to be real. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened. Well, I guess this is it then, no more graduate school for me, because there's no way I can sit in a room that he's also in, or even live in a city when I know he's out there somewhere, sharing the same space as me._

Not feeling particularly hungry, I wandered around campus during my lunch break, my mind a bit calmer and a whole lot more controllable by the time I entered Caius' afternoon class; the subject matter of early twentieth century Europe and its complicated tangled web of political affairs soon drawing my attention away from my impending doom as I managed to calm down again–but only to some extent.

Because really…would I ever be able to truly relax again when I knew that no matter how hard I tried, I would never be completely free of him?

On my way back home I debated my options–the few I had, at least. I could go away, hope that some university somewhere would accept my transfer request and allow me to join their program. But then, I'd have to give up my job at Volturi and my dream thesis subject.

_No, I won't do it._ Thinking it; making that resolve in my mind, strengthened my soul and banished some of the panic I'd been carrying around with me. _I won't let him chase me off and destroy my dreams. Not again. _

I could go to the police and explain what had happened to me in Washington in the hopes that they would, at least, get the process started on granting me a restraining order which would, effectively, put a stop to Professor Banner's guest lecture. But no matter how much I wanted to do just that, I knew deep down inside that that option too would prove to be impossible. Even if I'd be willing to go through the attention and judgment it would bestow upon me and answer the questions that would undoubtedly be raised, I was bound to secrecy by the very same agreement that had enabled me to stay in Europe–stay safe–for so long and chase my dreams. Reneging on it would cost me more than I could ever repay.

So I was screwed then.

The only thing I could do was to choose between fight or flight; something I wasn't sure I had the strength for and something that came so naturally to me that I'd once run all the way across an ocean. Still, right now there was a part of me–and I wasn't sure yet how strong it was, even though it was making itself heard with strength and ferocity I had never possessed before–that was done running. It was the part that was too proud of all the things I'd worked so hard for over the years and I was so excited about the future in front of me, that it would rather face the devil than walk away.

And in this case it meant facing the devil, _literally_.

"What's up, Bella!" Jacob called out, catching up with me just outside the subway station. "You look like you've just been told Santa's not real."

"Feels like it," I huffed, shrugging my shoulders as I fell into step with him. "I just…had one of those days, I guess. Did you just come home from work?"

"What gave it away?" Jake grinned, sticking up his dirty hands. "The hands? Or is it the whole grease-stained clothes thing?"

"Both?" I chuckled along with him. "But what do I know? It might just be the latest fashion for how much I pay attention to the latest trends."

"If that's the case then maybe my sister would stop nagging me about cleaning up," he groaned, his easygoing nature slowly evaporation the tension from my frame. "I mean…it's not like I'm so dirty I have grease dripping from my pants or anything but, with my job, I just can't help getting a stain or two on my clothes during the day."

"Hey, don't try to pull me into your beef with your sister!" I backpedaled. "I'm Switzerland, here! I don't take sides."

"Traitor!" he scolded playfully. "For that, I'm going to demand you let me buy you a coffee at Chelsea's while you tell me what got you in such a tiff."

I sighed, the prospect of going home to my flat with nothing but my own mind to keep me company just a little bit was worse than having coffee with a guy I hardly knew. _Well, at least it's in a public place. Nothing that bad can happen when there're other people around, right?_ "Okay."

Settling into a vacant booth, I folded my hands around the big, steaming cup of coffee, sipping it slowly as I debated what and how much I was going to tell Jacob about what happened today.

"So, are you settling in alright?" Jacob started. "From what Leah told me you have a job somewhere in Manhattan, right?"

I nodded. "I just started out at The Volturi Institute last week. It's one of the larger privately own archives in town."

Jacob whistled. "Don't know much about that but it sounds very smart–in both meanings of the word."

"I don't know about that." I shrugged. "But it's the kind of job I've been working towards for years so I'm very happy."

"Then what happened," he asked, stealthily zoning in on my gloomy mood before. "Asshole boss? Run in with a bitchy colleague?"

"Try bitchy professor," I smirked, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the well-worn Formica tabletop. "Today was my first day of school and I found out that a professor I've been trying to avoid for years is going to be involved in one of the classes I _have_ to take to stay on course."

"And you can't take that class some other time?" Jacob offered. "Say next year or next semester–not that I know a lot about the way things go at college or anything."

"I could do that," I mused, mulling the plan over in my head again, "but it would mean I'd have to block out the time to retake this class at some other stage, when I'd really need that time to work on my dissertation."

"That sucks," he nodded along with what I told him. "So you're just going to have to meet this asshole professor head on?"

"Or drop out," I confirmed with a deep sigh, which isn't really an option right now.

"Man! That explains the sour face!" Jacob chuckled, sitting back as he gulped the rest of his coffee down. "Well, if the guy threatens to make your life worse again, give me a heads up. I've got a couple of buddies who'd have no problem sorting this guy out…Besides, I have a feeling they'd jump at the chance to finally get to see a university from the inside."

"Thanks but no thanks," I smiled, feeling comforted by his back-up, even though I knew I'd never make use of it. Talking about what happened helped me deal with it and face the reality of the options open to me. _Huh, I guess Doctor Jansen was right after all!_ It was when I knew I'd made up my mind. "I'll make it through this on my own. I have to. I won't let him get me down, not this time."

"That's the spirit!" he praised me, clinking his empty cup to mine. "What do you say? One more for the road or do you want to head back home?"

"Home," I announced, suddenly feeling the weariness of the day catch up with me. "I kinda want to jump into bed and forget this day ever happened. Besides, I imagine your sister won't be too happy when you're home late for dinner."

"Fuck!" Jacob hissed, throwing some cash on the table as he jumped up from out of our booth. "She'll have my fucking ass if I'm late."

I chuckled, trotting after him as we crossed the street and rounded the corner to where our building rose proud from the greenery surrounding it.

We were almost to the front door when I spotted a lone figure, standing off to the side of the building, my breath coming in a loud gasp when I recognized him. _The Angry Man._

Edward Masen.

What the fuck was he doing there?

"Masen!" From the way Jacob hissed his name, I'd say they had a little bit more between them than just mere hostility.

Even in the fading daylight I could see The Angry Man's eyes explode with rage; the green blazing so powerful that it scared me half to death. "Black," he spat, stepping forward as his hands clenched to fists by his side. "Get the hell away from her, you fucking dog!"

Jacob got all up in his face, his huge frame looking over Edward's as they faced off. "Last time I looked, this was a free country so I'm free to spend my fucking time with whoever the hell I want. Besides, this is my home turf, _Rich Boy_, so if you don't like what you're seeing, you'd better get back to Upper _fucking_ Manhattan."

"You gonna make me, Black?" Masen challenged, the tension rising even further as I took a few more steps back. "It's a free country, alright, so if I want to talk to a girl–that girl…" I almost yelped when, for a brief moment, his attention was on me as he pointed over Jacob's shoulder, "…then it's my goddamn right to do so."

"Bella, get inside!" Jacob growled, trying to shield off my passage with his shoulders like I'd seen American football players do on the field.

"Don't you fucking tell her what to do!" Masen roared, taking half a step forward, bringing both men almost nose to nose. "I'm not about to let you stand in my way if she wants to talk to me." His eyes were blazing with despair as they locked with mine. "Please Bella…you don't want to get involved with him."

For a moment I debated stepping in and somehow trying to diffuse the situation but in that same moment, something must have finally set the two men off because next thing I knew, punches were flying as they stumbled and crashed until they tumbled to the ground.

I knew I should probably be doing something–screaming for starters, or maybe even jumping in to stop them from killing each other, since that was obviously the way they were headed. But for the life of me, I could not get my body to move or even open my mouth to say something–stop them.

I was just standing there….like a statue, looking on as fists continued to fly.

Just when Masen seemed to get the upper hand; his fist pining Jacob to the ground as his other kept bashing into him, a red, patent leather boot appeared from out of nowhere, to kick the two apart with a precision I would have admired had the circumstances not been so dire.

"Easy there, boys," Rose ordered, keeping both of them at arm's length as she leveled them with an icy stare. And for some weird reason, they actually listened to her; their bedraggled, bloody appearance matching the pants and grunts as they got to their feet, anger still rolling off them in waves even though a truce seemed to have been formed. For now. "Don't you know that when you try to fucking kill each other in the middle of the street, there's always someone standing around to call the cops on you, hmm?" She waited as both men glared, both bloodied and bruised and their chests heaving as they panted for air. "And I imagine neither of you wants to end up in jail now do you?"

I forgot to breathe as both men let her words sink in before stepping back as in the distance, true to Rose's words, the sound of police sirens getting closer could be heard.

"This is not over, Black," Masen snarled as his eyes flittered from side to side, looking for a fast escape, a small, smug smile forming on his lips as he watched Jacob rip off his shirt to stop a nosebleed.

"I'll fucking get you for this, Masen!" Jake roared, clutching his nose with his already dirty shirt.

Masen's laugh was venomous as he backed away, probably not wanting to the run the risk of anyone calling the cops on him. "You and what army, Black?"

Rose tried to say something to Jacob but he pushed her away, his face a storm cloud as he brushed past the two of us and into the building. It was only then, when the street was quiet again that my body suddenly remembered it was there again.

Standing there, reeling in the street, the only thought that entered my mind was how weird all of this had been. Within minutes things had gone from quiet to riot and back to quiet again and even now it was already hard to imagine it had all been real.

But it had been.

"Wow, Bella Swan!" Rose sang as she stood next to me, waiting for the elevator. "I have to say I thought you were kind of a goody two-shoes but you're a riot, girl! _Literally_! I may have gotten my share of looks over the years but I don't think I've ever had the men fighting to get my attention!"

I gave her a tight smile before ducking into the elevator, counting the numbers until I was finally back on my own, safe floor again and–most importantly–alone in my own little haven of peace and tranquility.

I sighed, leaning my head against the door as I locked everything else out, my body trembling with fatigue, fear, and anger as my mind wandered over the disastrous events this day had brought me in growing despair.

_Won't it ever stop?_

* * *

_**Thoughts?**_


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

* * *

Chance: **1. **the absence of any cause of events that can be predicted, understood, or controlled: often personified or treated as a positive agency: _Chance governs all. _**2. **luck or fortune: _a game of chance. _**3. **a possibility or probability of anything happening: _a fifty-percent chance of success. _**4. **an opportune or favorable time; opportunity: _Now is your chance. _**5. **_Baseball. _an opportunity to field the ball and make a put-out or assist.

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**Chance**

"Your father called a hundred times, he asked if you…" I could tell the minute I'd stepped into view because Tanya's mouth fell open, her eyes widening in shock before narrowing back as she took in my disheveled state. "What the hell happened to your face?"

"Fistfight?" I shrugged, not really wanting to go into it all. Not with the piss poor mood I was in anyway. "So what does the old fucker want from me now?"

"For you to give him a call," Tanya replied dismissively. "And don't think you're getting out of this by changing the subject. I want to know what the fuck happened."

"As I said: I was in a fight, _Mom_," I sneered back as I sauntered into the kitchen to grab a beer and a bag of frozen peas to put on the side of my face because–man, that shit hurt like it was on fucking fire. "It's not a big deal, T. I'm okay, no harm done…the end."

"Not a big deal?" she cried, her cheeks flushing with rage before she checked herself and continued in a more voice-friendly tone. "Would you just look at your fucking face, Edward? What the hell _did you do_?"

"As I said: fistfight," I grumbled, screwing the cap of my beer bottle open and dunking it into the garbage before taking a big gulp. _Much better_.

"And as I've said a million times: don't do that shit!" Tanya fumed, throwing her hands up at the ceiling in a move of theatrical despair. "Especially not now with the cops watching your every fucking move for evidence you're the little drug dealing piece of shit they suspect you are. Wait…." Her face paled, her hands dropping back down, as she stared at me. "Please tell me you weren't in a fistfight with your dad?"

In spite of the fact that deep down I knew it would only piss her off so much more, I couldn't stop myself from snorting because, well, what she was saying was just plain ridiculous. "No?" I guffawed, barely avoiding the fist flying at my face. "Come on, Tanya, do you really think I'm stupid enough to rough up my dad in a hospital full of witnesses?" I shook my head when she remained silent, confirming that she did, indeed, think I was fucking stupid enough to do that. "I would have been in jail instead of hanging out here if I did a thing like that. Besides, it's not like he would ever risk his precious surgeon's hands to lay a finger on his son, let alone punch me hard enough to give me a black eye. I'm not important enough to hazard his career over."

"Well boo-fucking-hoo." Tanya showed no mercy or compassion, her anger winning out for now. "So if it wasn't your dad, who were you fighting with?"

"Jake Black," I offered, watching as understanding dawned on her face.

"What the fuck!" she screeched, her precious voice forgotten as she looked at me, her eyes blinking wildly like she could barely believe what I'd just told her. Shaking her head she started to mutter, her voice fast and her words maybe not even intended for me, even if they were addressed at me. "You have to be crazy. Fucking stupid. Really, did all that shit you've smoked go to your brain or something? _Fuck!_ Didn't every sane person around you tell you not to go looking for that asshole as long as the police were on your case? Don't you fucking understand what it is you're going to be up against in court already?"

"I fucking _know_, okay?" I snarled, cutting in whether she was talking to me or not. "And it's not like I went out _looking_ for the asshole; he was just there."

"There's no '_just there'_, Edward," she spat back. "You went over there, right? So who else do you know in the building except for those loser friends you've been hanging out with. The _same ones_ who got your fucking ass arrested on possession with the intent to sell?

"I was looking for this girl, alright?" I yelled back, fighting the urge to smash my beer bottle against the wall. _Fuck! I need to break something before I go nuts!_

"A girl?" Tanya repeated with a what-the-fuck look.

"Yeah, a girl." I rolled my eyes at her incredulous look. "I ran into her the other day and to say I wasn't very fucking nice to her would be the understatement of the motherfucking century and…_shit_!" I let out a long huff, running a hand through my hair as I sat my beer back down on the table as I crashed in the seat closest to my ass. "I've been so fucking 'in my head' lately that I thought…I wanted to make something right for a change, instead of being this huge fuckup every goddamn day. So, after things at my dad's office turned into an fail-fest I thought I might as well start there…with _her_…apologizing and shit."

"So let me get this straight…" Tanya didn't look any less incredulous as she sagged down in a chair across from me. "You went to a building you know also houses the last person on earth you want to run into right now, to _apologize_ to a _girl_?" From the look on her face she was somewhere halfway between not believing me and laughing at me to my face. Which, I had to admit, kind of stung.

"I didn't know Jake was going to be there," I defended myself. "He just showed up _with her _when I was waiting for her to answer the fucking door." I winced as my hands made contact with the raw and bruised side of my face on another run through my hair, the memory of seeing her walk up with my worst enemy; laughing and joking like old buddies–or more than that–had been a kick to the gut, worse than anything Jake had done.

Even now, I was so pissed off by it all that it kind of shocked me because…why did I actually care? It was not like I gave a fuck about her or wanted to _actually_ fuck her, right? Then why was I so pissed off? Just because Black got to her first?

"Wow." Tanya's voice sounded far away, only drifting back into the forefront when she shifted and her face came into my line of sight.

My brows furrowed at her unfinished statement; my annoyance at the whole situation made my reaction come out crabbier than it should have. "What?"

"This girl must have really done a number on you!" There was something almost reverent in Tanya's voice that put me even more on edge, though it also confused the shit out of me. "I don't think I've ever seen you so affected."

"It's nothing," I shrugged, even then knowing it was as much as a lie as what followed. "She's nothing to me." She definitely was _something_ to me. I just couldn't figure out what the fuck that something was. Still, it was enough to make me want to see her again.

"And yet you went to all that trouble to apologize to her," Tanya taunted, obviously believing my words about as much as I did. "I like it, though. It makes me remember the old you….before all of that shit went down with your family and, well, apart from the fact that instead of apologizing, you only worked yourself up into a whole new level of shit."

I shrugged, not wanting to go into all of that because God only knew how deep she would fall into that amateur shrink shit she was so fond of if I told her just how much Brown Eyes reminded me of my mom, even if she looked nothing like her.

"So," Tanya sat back, a small conniving smile playing on her lips. "Do you plan on seeing her again?"

Again I shrugged. "Not really, not now that Black's sniffing around her."

"I think you should," she stated, like it was nothing.

"What?" I snorted. "You want me to go back out there after all the shit you just gave me for even being in the same borough as him? What the fuck, Tanya?"

"I'm not saying you should risk another run-in with Black," Tanya sighed, rolling her eyes at my obvious stupidity (though I tended to disagree with her assessment). "I'm just saying that it might not be such a bad idea for you to try and meet her again–if you're really serious about apologizing to the poor girl, that is."

"I dunno," I shrugged. The idea in itself was appealing, though the connotations of that idea scared the fucking shit out of me. "I think so."

"Then find out if she ever hangs out in places where you're less likely to run into Black or any of his friends," Tanya pressed, stopping my arguments (because who am I kidding, of course I was going to argue). "I know you have your ways of finding out shit about this chick because–hell, you found out where she lives, right?"

I sighed, nodding my head as I smirked. "You're too damn smart for your own good sometimes."

She grinned, getting up from her seat to probably do something productive or some other shit people with actual lives did. "You can thank me later."

For the next couple of days, I stuck true to Tanya's suggestion; biding my time as I hid out in my room all day, dodging calls from my dad and his secretary, playing Tanya's piano, but mostly just being bored out of my skull and stealthily trying to find out more about Weird Girl–_Bella_–on my afternoons and evenings as a piano teacher.

The latter wasn't quite as easy as I'd imagined though. I didn't know whether it was because Bella had told her about what happened, or if Rose had put the fear of God into Angela's poor soul, but whenever I started to subtlety move the conversation towards a certain brown eyed girl, the chick clammed up like a fucking oyster.

It took me days to even find out she'd only just moved here after a couple of years of living abroad; a couple more to have her slip that Brown Eyes was a student at NYU but apparently had some side job to help pay the rent. It was well over a week after my conversation with Tanya that I finally hit the jackpot as a picture in some newspaper a student had left behind caused Angela to jump up like a fucking jack rabbit and reveal that the ugly old dude whose mug was pictured front and center on page three was Bella's employer.

_Bingo!_

What Angela didn't know was that I managed to sneak out of the community center with the newspaper tucked under my shirt like some fucking third-rate spy and spent most of my train ride back into civilized society reading the article in question only to learn that the ugly old dude was the chief of some sort of stinky old archive that specialized in shit nobody wanted to know.

I had my target, though, so the next afternoon found me staking out in front of the Volturi Institute, reading a crappy book one of my friends had recommended to me (though after reading it I was doubting whether I still wanted to call him my friend) to avoid looking too obvious as I waited for Brown Eyes to appear.

Which didn't even take long.

Even though she wasn't really sticking out between all the people rushing around, looking like they were so fucking important they were minutes away from curing cancer or something, I spotted her the minute she emerged from the huge entryway; eyes fixed to the ground in front of her, shoulders slightly hunched up and her pale face mostly hidden behind her hair. She looked like she was trying really fucking hard not to draw attention to herself which, in a part of town like this where it was pretty much all about seeing and being seen, made everyone look.

"Bella?" I called out, grabbing her attention as she was only a couple of steps away from me.

She looked up, startled, her hands clutching a brown paper bag as if she was scared I was going to rob her of whatever shit was inside of that fucking thing. My guess was lunch. "W-what are you doing here?"

I smirked, already expecting this question but not having come up with a suitable reply that didn't make me look like some fucking stalker in all the time I'd spent setting up for this 'impromptu' meeting. "I was kind of waiting for you…" I groaned at the noise I was making. "Look, I know I probably sound like some scary creep–and maybe I fucking am, I don't know–but we kind of got off on the wrong foot the other day and I really wanted to talk to you without the risk of running into Black."

"Okay," she spoke slowly while her voice was hesitant and spiked with fear. "So…how can I help you?"

It didn't escape my notice that some people–probably her colleagues–were now staking out near the entrance to the building, watching us like a bunch of fucking hawks as they no doubt picked up on Bella's less than enthusiastic reaction to my being here. "Shit!" I hissed, feeling really fucking nervous all of a sudden though I wasn't sure why the fuck that was. "Can we talk…I mean, outside of all this shit and preferably not with the peanut gallery waiting to jump in?" I nodded in the direction of the small group of Team Weird Girl people still scowling at my every move.

At least my comment made her smile and she held up her hand to signal to them she was doing fine before turning all serious on me. "I don't think that's such a good idea, I mean…I don't exactly trust you or even know you for that matter. And I'm not quite sure I want to."

"I get that," I nodded, my mind flying in all directions as I tried really damn hard to think of something to change her mind. "I mean…you haven't really seen me at my most charming so far but…I don't know." I let out a huge breath, running a hand through my hair and tugging slightly to get rid of some frustration. "I have this strange urge to show you I'm not a major asshole."

Again, she chuckled and my heart really fucking skipped a beat as I watched her face light up. "What do you expect me to say?"

"That you'll have coffee with me after dinner?" I offered, the words coming out as hopeless as I felt. "You can pick the place and…if you want to have someone in your corner you're free to invite someone else…hell, bring the entire peanut gallery along for the ride as long as you'll say yes." In my mind I was kind of wondering what the fuck was going on with my mouth. I mean, I'd come out here just to apologize and maybe give her a warning about the kind of people she hung out with and how it would be better for her to get the hell away from them. And I was asking her out on a date? What. The. Fuck?

"I don't know..." She sighed, looking torn which I couldn't really fault her for. For a moment I had a shimmer of fucking hope she was going to say yes but then someone from the peanut gallery called her name and asked if she was still joining them for lunch and I could fucking see it happen; the 'no' forming in her eyes before her lips could catch up.

"Just…wait!" I blurted out, part of me feeling like some desperate, whining little girl while the other part was too fixed on getting the opportunity to apologize and show her I wasn't that random delinquent dude she knew. "Before you say no, let me give you my number so you can think it over and decide when you're ready, okay?"

She looked unconvinced as I dug around in my pockets for a piece of paper and something to write with but she was probably too nice a girl to flat out tell a guy 'no' even if the fucker had been nothing but rotten to her. Like me.

"Here," she finally insisted, handing out a pen and a pristine little old-school paper notebook when all I could come up with was a gum wrapper that had a chewed piece of gum stuck inside of it.

"Thanks!" I scribbled my number down, suddenly wishing my hands were cleaner as I held her little notebook back out to her. It seemed almost sullied now, even though it wasn't like I had fucking inches of mud or oil sticking to my paws or anything. Just…it seemed wrong somehow for part of me to be connected to her. "You'd better get back to your friends."

She nodded, pocketing her notebook as she turned around with a small smile leaving me to watch like some lovesick puppy as she slowly started to disappear from view. While she was doing that, though, I was almost bowled over by someone running from the entrance, trying to catch up with Team Bella.

"Hey guys, wait up!" the woman called out and it was only then that I recognized her. "It looks like I'm able to join you after all."

What. The. Fuck?

Of course I knew that bitch was walking around New York somewhere but to run into her again after what happened–after what she'd _done_? For a moment I just stood there, fucking gawping like a lunatic as the memories of that night crashed back into my mind.

Mom screaming on the phone.

A car sounding like cars were never supposed to sound.

Static.

Dad not picking up the phone.

Sitting in the hospital, waiting…and waiting…and then finally the doctors…

And dad showing up….with _her_.

How the hell did Weird Girl end up working in the same place as Esme-fucking-McCarty? First hanging out with Black and Rose Hale in her down time and now this? What did she do in her free time? Skype with third world dictators or something?

Wandering around like some shell-shocked victim of a bomb attack, I hoofed it into Central Park, still trying to wrap my fucking brain around what had just happened. On the one side there had been a small triumph since Bella hadn't flat out told me no and ordered me to take a hike before she called the police. There was still so much confusion around her and the way she made me feel but I knew that somehow I needed to talk to her and that might still happen.

Then there had been Esme; the bitch who was responsible for my mom's death. Even after all this time I was still so fucking pissed off at her and dad for what they'd done that I was glad that whore hadn't come out when I was still talking to Bella. I didn't know what I'd do if I ever found myself face to face with her but I was willing to bet it wouldn't be good.

And it wouldn't have done my chances with Bella any good, that's for sure.

I only started to calm down a bit by the time I reached the lake. It might have been the ducks or the cute little kiddies running around the place but it was probably just the time and the slow ebbing away of the adrenaline that made me catch up with what was happening around me. My body went through the motions of buying a pretzel from some vendor and taking it to my usual spot on the other side of the lake by the gazebo.

I'd been sitting there for about ten minutes, enjoying a smoke without Tanya screaming in my ear about the damage it would do to her voice and to me (yes, in that order), when my phone began to ring; my hand shaking strangely as I pulled it from my pocket and read the small, illuminated screen.

_Unknown Caller_

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_**Thoughts?**_


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

* * *

**Progress:**** 1. **a movement toward a goal or to a further or higher stage: _the progress of a student toward a degree. _**2. **developmental activity in science, technology, etc., especially with reference to the commercial opportunities created thereby or to the promotion of the material well-being of the public through the goods, techniques, or facilities created. **3. **advancement in general. **4. **growth or development; continuous improvement: _He shows progress in his muscular coordination. _**5. **the development of an individual or society in a direction considered more beneficial than and superior to the previous level.

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**Progress**

What the hell did I just do?

Even now, the conversation was pounding in my head and the phone was still in my hand, I really couldn't believe I'd just called the guy everyone had been warning me about and agreed to meet him for coffee tomorrow after work.

I must be out of my mind.

The dust and old funk coming from Johannes van Leyden's library books must have screwed with my brain's circuits or something because there was no other explanation for my strange behavior.

Bella Swan didn't do these kinds of things.

_Ever_.

"I think you made the right call, Bella," Alice, my partner in crime–well, at least this particular _crime_–assured me. "He looked genuinely sorry about whatever he did and I think it will be good to hear what he has to say for himself. If only because you can let that whole shit go after you talk to him."

I chuckled nervously, pulling at the sleeves of the cardigan I was wearing even though it wasn't particularly cold or anything. "You're just saying that because you get a date out of it too!" It had been my one stipulation when I promised Edward I'd meet him: I get to bring reinforcements.

Two of them, to be exact.

Alice and Jasper.

"Maybe," she grinned conspiratorially, "but I just have this gut feeling telling me you and he have some unfinished business between the two of you." She arched her head like a little bird, her seemingly all-knowing eyes staring at me in a way that made me slightly uncomfortable. "And maybe even something more…"

"I'd trust her," Jasper chimed in, sauntering up to where we had been standing outside the cozy little lunch spot Esme had taken us today. She had this habit of buying most of the researchers at Volturi, or 'upstairs folk' as we were commonly called, lunch once a week to strengthen the team spirit and get the lowdown on everything that was happening on the floor. "Her guts usually right."

I giggled, a little nervous as I was about to tell him part of the plan he was quite heavily involved in. "You're free tomorrow after work, right?"

It was no big secret that, apart from the archives and his game console, Jasper didn't really have a life. If the slightly unkempt hair, thick glasses and grungy outfits hadn't clued me in, I only had to spend one hour in his company to know that he was about as geeky as they came, which made the budding romance between him and outgoing, vivacious Alice all the weirder.

He shrugged. "I planned on going over to my mom's to help her with her taxes but I can do that any time, I guess. Something happening?"

I waited until Alice had skipped on ahead, joining some of the Italianates before I cued him in. "You and Alice have the honor of accompanying me on the possibly most awkward and stupid coffee meeting of my life."

"You said yes?" Jasper seemed about as surprised as I was, so surprised even that for a moment he forgot I'd actually shanghaied him into a date with the object of his affection for the past couple of years. "Wait…me and _Alice_?"

"It was her idea actually," I shrugged, trying not to appear too nervous…or scared about the coffee meeting, which I was studiously avoiding calling a 'date'. So instead, I settled for teasing. "I guess she got tired of waiting for you to ask her out."

"_Women_," Jasper spat, his long legs accelerating pace, making it really hard for me to keep up with him.

So I didn't, using the remainder of our walk back to the office to try and decide how _I_ thought about my impending not-a-date coffee meeting. I had a feeling I was going to need one hell of a walk to do that, since I wasn't anywhere near figuring it out by the time I made it back to my desk. I was going, though, that much was sure about, even if just because I knew Alice would be so disappointed if her pseudo-date didn't happen.

Besides, there was something about Edward Masen that made me want to listen to whatever it was he had to say. Call it a gut feeling, animal attraction, or maybe even a complete lack of self-preservation but deep down, I'd always suspected that there was more to him than the guy people warned me about.

After all, could anyone with eyes as green as the ferns you find in the deepest, most overgrown parts of the forest back home in Forks, really be that bad? I shook my head at my own naivety. _Yeah, famous last words from a girl naïve enough to believe her college professor when he tried to brainwash her into thinking that the only way she could ever earn a college degree was by bending to his sick will. _

But all of those mistakes were in the past, though not as much as I would like.

I sighed, my hands mechanically grabbing yet another book from the ever present pile next to me, my thoughts going back to Professor Arkham's announcement as I carefully rifled through the pages, hoping against better judgment to find another letter just like the one burning a hole in my locked desk drawer.

After my surprise find on that first day, the excitement had kind of dwindled since the letter appeared to be the only interesting thing to find among the many pages of Johannes van Leyden's expansive library and even with the letter, we weren't really making any progress. Sure, it was as exciting and groundbreaking days after finding as it had been the moment I set eyes on it but, we weren't any closer to finding out who the mysterious 'A' could be.

Unless…

Sighing, my eyes went out to Jasper's side of the desk, finding him muttering to himself as he went over a progress report he was going to send to Aro. "Hey Jazz?" His eyes blinked as he looked up. "Can I ask you something?"

"I still can't believe you just set me up," he grumbled, not really answering my question.

"Were you ever going to ask her yourself?" I quipped. Based off of what Bree and pretty much everybody else at the office had told me about their frustratingly slow paced budding romance between the two, I already knew his answer. _No_.

He blushed, his mouth pulling into a scowl as his eyes shot back to the paper in front of him. "I was getting to it."

"Oh really?" Bree snorted, somehow always knowing just when to appear. "When were you going to ask?"

"I dunno, alright?" he all but growled, much to our amusement. "And what is it with you women butting in on my business?"

"If you ever made your business run smoothly," Bree was quick to shoot him down, "we wouldn't have had to but in, as you say. Being as it is, I think you owe Bella a massive thank you for having the balls to do what you've been trying–but failing–to do for _years_."

"Well I would have liked to do it myself, anyway," Jasper snapped, the way he turned back to his book clearly stating that he was done having this conversation.

I sighed, feeling bad for getting my coworker and 'kind of friend' in such a pickle. "Sorry Jazz," I apologized after the door had fallen back into its lock after Bree's departure. "I didn't mean to butt into your life, it's just…I didn't want to go there alone and since I trust you I...I thought I was helping you out a little but if you don't want to, I can ask someone else."

"I want to," he muttered, his tall frame still hunched over his book. "I just…this is all a little overwhelming and I feel kind of embarrassed that I never had the guts to ask her–like Bree said–and you did it just like that." He snapped his fingers.

"Let's just forget how it happened and move on, okay?" I suggested, gently putting the book I'd been assessing in the 'library' pile to be donated to one of the public libraries.

"'Kay," Jasper nodded, adding his own book to the same stack. "So, you wanted to ask me something?"

"Yeah." I nodded, pursing and relaxing my lips as I debated whether or not to go ahead with my question. I mean, it was basically a direct act of insubordination but then again, Jasper did kind of strike me as the kind of historian who wouldn't shy away from a good rebellion if it was in the benefit of history. "I-I'm meeting with my professor this afternoon to go over some of my dissertation proposals and I was wondering…"

"You want to bring up the letter," Jasper finished for me, his voice level and his face not giving anything away.

Which only made it that much harder for me.

"Y-yes?" I stammered. "I mean…I know Aro told us not to but…well, we're kind of stuck and Caius knows a lot of things about the Dutch community in early twentieth century New York. If anyone knows who 'A' might be...it's him."

I could see that Jasper was intrigued at least, enthusiastic at best as he sat up a little straighter. "And he helped get the funds together to acquire the van Leyden collection so he's pretty much entitled to know about the letter anyway," he hedged and I knew there and then he was on my side.

"So you're saying I should go ahead with it?" I wanted to know, needing to be sure he had my back before I did anything.

"Do you trust this guy?" My nod must have given him all the reassurance he needed because he simply shrugged. "Then I say go ahead with it. Let's just hope Aro doesn't find out."

I smirked, nodding. _Yeah, that would not be pretty. _

"I'll have your back, though, just in case you're wondering." Jasper smiled conspiratorially before turning back to his book. "Let's just hope this professor of yours can give us some new stuff to research because if I have to wade through one more box of boring books, I'm going to shoot myself."

"He knows more about this era than anyone I know," I mused, my thoughts similar to Jasper as I dunked yet another book onto the library pile. "He's actually the one I'm going to TA for next semester." It was something I was equally looking forward to and dreading at the same time. Being a Ph.D. student it was expected of me to teach or at least assist in some classes, since that was pretty much what the program was grooming me to do for the rest of my life. The thought of actually heading a seminar, though, even if Professor Verweylen's classes were usually only attended by a small specialist group and I was more at home in the subject matter than most of my peers, was easier said than done.

What if my nerves showed or I stumbled on my words? Of ever worse: what if I had a complete blackout or failed to inspire my students?

"Good luck," Jasper spoke, answering both my spoken and unspoken words. "When's your meeting again?"

"At seven, right after class," I replied, sighing as I pick up book number two thousand and something by the feel of it. "Do you know how things are going on the van Leyden end?"

"The movers are making slow progress, especially because that prick James is hovering over them like a bad rash," Jasper growled, the slow progress of the transfer of the really interesting stuff–the contents of Johannes van Leyden's personal study–moving at an agonizingly slow pace. "I'm heading over there tomorrow to see if they have anything for us yet."

"Good luck!" I mirrored his cheer from just before, though all I got in return was a smirk. Which I could understand because as much as I had heard about James van Leyden, I knew that even the prospect of ever running into him would be enough to put me in a bad mood.

The rest of the afternoon was blissfully quiet and, much to my relief, my second venture into the New York college scene proved to be free from any upheaval apart from Caius' minute long struggle to get the high-tech smart board to cooperate, followed by an endless tirade against modern technology.

_Historians_.

For most of the lecture, though, I was able to just sit back, relax and absorb the words of the scholar I had come to respect the most and who had truly become a friend. I was always mindful of the fact that some day in the (hopefully) not so distant future, he would be the one to lead me in front of a Ph.D. committee.

However, it wasn't until I was seated across from him and discussing my very faintly outlined dissertation proposal that my nerves started to return, the knowledge that I was about to engage in an act of insubordination made me nervous, no matter how much I knew Jasper would back me up.

"How are you coming along at the Institute?" Caius wanted to know as soon as we got the 'official' talk out of the way, his frame slouched down against the high-backed chair as he finished the remainder of his appetizer, his eyes, as ever, keenly on his discussion partner. Me.

Caius Verweylen was a consummate historian, a trait that was reflected in his slightly worn look of high quality tweed jackets over corduroy pants. He was also very much an enjoyer of the finer pleasures in life and so, from early on in my dealings with him, most of our private conversations had happened at the better restaurants in whatever town I was meeting him, over a fine meal or afternoon tea.

It was something I'd had to grow used to at first, especially with my history. Still you only had to take one glance at the good man to know he was completely harmless–unless, of course, he found someone destroying something of historic value. Any good historian, no matter how pacifistic in nature, would get violent at the sight of that.

"It's funny you should mention that," I croaked, determined to strike the iron while hot, no matter how scared I felt at actually bringing the hammer down for my strike, "because there's something I've been dying to run by you."

Caius' head cocked to the side, his lips curling up in amusement as he continued to assess me. "Running into trouble already?"

"Not really," I chuckled, easily picking through his taunt. "It's just that a name came up in our research that has me and my coworker a little stumped."

"Then by all means, tell me," he smiled widely, his professional interest obviously peeked. "I may not be as much as a van Leyden connoisseur as you are, but I know a thing or two about the people he might have associated with."

"That's what I said," I nodded, nervously licking my lips as I tried to summon the courage to lay my cards on the table…or at least those I was willing to reveal. "Do you happen to know of someone Johannes was close to during his time in New York…someone whose name begins with the letter 'A'?"

"Who are we looking for, then?" Caius fished, his eyes sparking with a need to know I could understand only too well. "A business acquaintance? A friend?"

"Definitely a friend," I answered, carefully trying to navigate the minefield of information sharing. "A woman."

For a moment Caius was struck completely dumb and I knew he'd figured it out even before he started to speak again. "Are you trying to tell me you've found a love letter directed to Johannes from an unknown woman?"

When I nodded, he sat up a little straighter, his tall frame scooting to the edge of his seat. "And you're certain the person who wrote the letter couldn't be Sarah Stanley?"

"Absolutely," I confirmed, my heart pounding in my throat with excitement.

If ever the phrase 'giddy as a schoolgirl' could be used in relation to a normally sedate, fifty-something college professor it would have been then, as he kept staring at me, slack jawed but with eyes that said it all as I confirmed his suspicion. "The problem is, though, that we have no idea who wrote the letter."

"Let me think," Caius mused, sitting back as he nursed his wineglass with one hand, the other rubbing his chin in reflection. "A woman whose name begins with an 'A' and who's definitely not his wife? Hmm…" He was quiet for what seemed like agonizing hours as I tried to force bits of my entrée down my throat, without really appreciating any of its tasty qualities until suddenly his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and I knew he'd thought of someone. "I do believe that this mysterious 'A' of yours might be Lady Amelia Cullen," he announced, grinning triumphantly as he waited for me to ask for more.

Which, of course, I promptly did, my blood pounding in my veins as adrenaline coursed through it like a race car. "She was a friend of his?"

"A connection between the two of them has never been proven," Caius hedged. "But it is a fact that sometime between his arrival in New York and his departure for Europe and the trenches of World War I, they did move in the same circles of society." He sat back, looking about as stumped as I did. _A lady? How the hell did that happen?_ "Still, it would be nothing short of a lightning strike if you manage to prove an intimate connection between the two of them, though, considering who she was."

I nodded, still blinking against the shock of his revelation. "I can understand that."

"I don't know a lot about her," Caius apologized, "since…well, she's not Dutch, which kind of makes her wholly uninteresting to me…until now, of course–but I imagine you might be able to find a thing or two about her and her family in the city archives, seeing as they've been a rather prominent feature in New York society ever since the first of the Cullen's touched down on American soil."

Again, I nodded, still too stumped to speak, the excitement at finally finding a lead when so many days had passed without finding anything still pulsing through my whole being hours later when I tried in vain to get some rest, my impatience making me almost pounce on poor Jasper as I met him on the steps of the Volturi Institute early on the next morning.

"I found a lead!" I cried, as Jasper merely blinked at me with wide eyes, probably wondering what kind of alien life form had sucked away my brains overnight.

That was, until he let my words sink in. "You know who it is?" he gasped. "I mean….you actually _know_?"

I nodded furiously even though a little voice in the back of my mind told me I didn't really actually _know_. I just _guessed_. "Lady Amelia Cullen," I blurted out, not bothering to think about who might be listening in on our conversation until I sensed a presence behind me. _Shit!_

Knowing my luck it would probably be Aro, on his way to fire me after he'd found out about my forbidden conversation with my mentor. And even if he hadn't found out, I was sure he'd put two and two together soon enough after my carelessly blurted out epiphany.

Jasper's eyes widened along with mine as I slowly turned around, the acute sense of dread diminishing slightly as found not Aro but Esme standing right behind me.

"Amelia Cullen?" Her eyes lit up as she looked first at me, then at Jasper and finally back at me again. "If she is who I think she is then I might be able to help you out because…" She blushed slightly as she paused, seeming a little uncomfortable for a mere moment before she went on. "I think I may know her family."

* * *

_**Thoughts?**_


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

* * *

**Moonlight:**_noun _1. the light of the moon. _adjective _2. pertaining to moonlight. 3. illuminated by moonlight. 4. occurring by moonlight, or at night. _verb (used without object) _5. to work at an additional job after one's regular, full-time employment, as at night.

**Moonlight**

To say that I was fucking nervous, getting ready for my pseudo-date with the mysterious Bella Swan would be the understatement of the century. Which was really rather fucking confusing since…well, it wasn't an actual date, was it?

I had no intention of fucking her or engaging in any activities that may lead to fucking her…so why was I so damn nervous?

_Because you _do_ want to fuck her. _

I growled at that nagging little voice at the back of my head, trying to push it into some godforsaken corner where it wouldn't bother me again as I buttoned my nicest shirt (which wasn't really saying shit) and tried to mold my hair into something half-decent before giving up. It was never going to amount to anything good, which was the same thing that could be said for me.

_Another reason why I shouldn't stick my dick in her. _

But then again, just as I was starting to convince myself that banging Bella Swan would be the worst idea imaginable, especially if I planned to make her see that I wasn't the good for nothing little punk she probably thought I was (and let's be honest, she was kind of right). My mind started to remember the way she had looked yesterday, her cheeks were flushed with nervous energy setting off the pale, porcelain quality of her really flawless skin or the way she kept biting her lip until I was almost sure she was going to pierce skin at some point. And don't forget the way she smelled.

Like all the good things in life put together.

Like _home_.

There was this really weird vibe humming through my fucking body whenever she was near; making me more aware of shit in general, and her in particular, as some invisible fucked up sort of string pulled me in her direction. I wanted to be with her, even if I didn't fucking know her or had exchanged that much else in the way of actual words except for 'hello', 'goodbye' and 'fuck you'.

I growled, scowling at my reflection in the mirror as I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt before thinking better of it when I noticed how that exposed the full sleeve I'd had inked on my left arm. Not that I was ashamed of my art or anything but Bella and her friends looked like the kind of people who might frown upon tattoos and what they thought they stood for.

And I was a man on a mission after all.

If only I knew what that mission was, though. Of course, I wanted to apologize to her for being such a fucking shithead all the time but I could have done that in the streets and be done with it.

But I didn't want to.

Because deep down I sensed there was something about that weird, scrawny girl that made me want to know her better; know what made her tick, what made her smile and, most of all, why the hell she looked so damn scared half the time–because that was really something that stuck with me.

What the hell had happened to her to make her think the world was such a scary fucking place? And how on earth had she ended up in New York being the way she was, because it didn't take more than a fleeting look to know that she wasn't from around here. She was too frail…too unworldly to belong to a cutthroat world like that of the Big Apple.

But then why pick it? Of all the places in the continental US, why pick this place with its never ending blaring sirens, reminding you that crime was around every damn corner? Why not settle for some quiet, Podunk town like…I don't know.

Sighing, I was beginning to wonder when I'd grown a motherfucking vagina, my scowl marring the reflection as I brushed my hair into a somewhat sociably acceptable shape before hightailing it out of the apartment before I'd grow a pair of tits to match my new formed pussy.

"Where are you going?" Tanya called after me, the gleam in her eyes telling me she was just trying to start shit. She knew. "Hot date?"

"Fuck you!" I growled, shrugging into my leather jacket in lieu of a better option. It made me look like a reformed criminal dressed up for court but it wasn't like I could afford a real fucking wardrobe and most of my shit was still back at the house with _him_.

My dad.

My scowl etched a little deeper into my face as I thought about the way the fucker had been harassing me ever since my complete fail of an 'olive branch attempt'. He was sorry, he said. Well he should have thought about that before, when he chose his patients over his only kid for the umpteenth time.

I was fucking done with him.

_Done_.

Breathing in, I tried to get myself back in control as I headed out, the slight chill in the air cooling my mind as I stalked through the park on my way to the Upper East Side for my meeting with Bella and whoever the fuck she wanted to drag along.

As I neared the little diner where we were meeting I was starting to get happy about Bella asking her friends along. After all, if talking to the girl in the streets for five minutes could get me worked up to the point of madness, how the hell was I going to make it through coffee and maybe a slice of pie or some other snack without flying off the fucking walls?

And what was it with this girl and that weird vibe she was giving off anyway? It wasn't like she was the kind of girl I would usually go for which, I kinda had to admit, spoke in her favor. Still, there was nothing about this girl that would normally make me waste a second thought about her.

Yet here I was, thinking about her almost to the point of obsession.

Luckily, by the time I reached the front door, she and her nerdy friends had already settled in a booth near the window, sparing me another round of freaking out as I settled in next to a guy who seemed to have come straight out of Wayne's World.

Weird Girl, meanwhile, sat hunched in her little corner like she was afraid someone was going to club her over the head if she took up more space than absolutely necessary.

Or looked people straight in the eye.

Not really knowing what to fucking do in this sort of situation, I settled for clearing my throat to maybe, hopefully, get her attention and actually speaking up when even that failed. "Hi."

She looked up with those really big, scared Bambi eyes, a small smile curling on her lips. "Hi. You came."

"I badgered you into being here, didn't I?" I smirked, awkwardness rolling off this meeting in tsunami-sized waves. "I would be the epitome of almighty fuck-ups if I didn't come."

She bit her lip, like she was afraid I was pissed off with her or something. "I guess so."

The girl next to her smiled encouragingly, like she was some sort of proud momma coaxing her baby girl into her first play date. When they settled on me, though, her eyes were a lot more forceful; the unspoken threat in them making me scared for my junk if I even so much as accidentally hurt the girl. Not that the thought had even crossed my mind.

"I'm Alice." As unexpectedly as the scary pygmy friend spoke, I had to admit it made me jump a little as I looked at her, tearing my eyes away from the girl who looked like she probably wanted something better to hide behind than just her hair. "And that's Jasper."

"Hi!" Wayne's World greeted me, his fingers laden with thick, fake silver rings as we shook hands; his Megadeath t-shirt and pierced earrings made him look almost like a worse reprobate than I was–especially since I was wearing a nice shirt and all.

"So…" I hedged, really wishing Weird Girl would start taking a more active role in this shit since she knew I wasn't about to pull a gun on her or something. "You all work together?"

The pygmy nodded enthusiastically, her eyes flashing briefly to Bella who was still sitting as still as a marble statue. "We work at the Volturi Institute. Do you know it?"

"Can't say I do," I confessed. From what I'd seen of the outside of the building I'd concluded that it was probably some sort of playground for rich people and, seeing as most of the people going in there were either old shits or students.

"It's a private archive that documents the history of the Italian and Dutch immigrants in New York," Wayne's World chimed in, his fingers nervously playing with the spoon next to his half-empty cup of coffee as he shot not-so-stealthy glances at the pygmy.

"Why only the Dutch and the Italians?" I asked, feigning interest as I myself kept looking at Weird Girl to see if she was starting to thaw a little. If she was, the difference was so minuscule it wasn't noticeable with the bare eye.

"Because our boss is Italian and his boyfriend is Dutch." Wayne's World shrugged like that should have been really fucking obvious.

"Right," I nodded, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "So you like it there?"

I kept hoping Weird Girl would at one point enter the conversation because her silence was starting to make me feel a bit uncomfortable but, again, it was one of the tagalongs that answered. "It's nice. Our boss is a bit weird but our floor manager is very nice and it's great to actually find a job that fits my degree, which is a rarity, I can tell you," the pygmy babbled; her hand patting Weird Girl's like the poor thing had just done something amazing before that same scary stare was back on me. "So, Edward, you said you had something to say to Bella?"

And why did I suddenly feel like I was face to face with the girl's dad, sweaty palms and all that shit, asking permission to take her to prom while he was cleaning out his guns?

"Eh…yes," I stammered like a fucking tool. "I wanted to apologize to We-_Bella, _for the way I acted during some of our…meetings."

At least that got a reaction out of her, even if it was a snort, her eyes shooting up and meeting mine for the first time since I'd walked into this fucking place. "You mean for yelling at me, knocking me off my feet, and beating a guy up in front of my house?"

I grinned at her as I sat back, reassured now that the tiger hiding underneath that broken, scared front had come out to play. "Yeah, I gather I owe you a big old 'sorry' for all of the above."

"Ya think?" Pygmy smirked next to her.

"Alice!"

The pygmy looked almost guilty for butting in on our conversation as she flashed Weird Girl a little smile before finding something really fucking interesting about the three million bracelets she was wearing on her left arm. Meanwhile Bella's brown eyes were back on me, looking at me with some sort of weird curiosity that immediately freaked me out. "So you told me you're sorry and I guess I accept that. What now?"

"I don't know." This time I was the one who was really fumbling for words. "I guess…I kind of want to get to know you maybe?"

We both glared at the pygmy as she broke out into a fit of giggles, her innocent look pissing me off even more as she slowly calmed the fuck back down. "What? He sounded just like Carly Rae Jepsen."

I had not one fucking idea who the hell she was talking about so I decided to just ignore her, even if Bella seemed to catch on to whatever the fuck the joke was. "You want to get to know me?" She was all serious again as she frowned. "Why?"

"Why?" I ran my hand through my hair to keep myself from screaming or cursing or all those things that came natural to me when I was really fucking frustrated. "Because…_fuck_…I think you're interesting?"

_Shit_. I wasn't supposed to curse in front of her.

Then Bella laughed. I had just came as close as I had in years to really laying my fucking heart on the table and all she can do is laugh at me. "_You_ want to get to know _me_?"

I nodded, stumped. "You're not like the rest of the people from around here. Besides, we have something in common, right?" I smiled when her stumped face matched mine. "The center?"

"I was only there just for one class," she muttered, withdrawing back into her shy and introverted self in front of my eyes_. Shit no._

"Yeah, but from what I hear the old folks are still pining for you," I countered. "You kicked ass in there."

"Right." It was obvious that Bella had a hard time believing me, her fingers absentmindedly playing with her teaspoon going straight to my cock–which only served to complicate matters even more.

"I know I'm probably the last person you want to hang out with," I went on. It was all or nothing now. "I mean…it's not like I was on my best behavior during those times you've seen me…as we've already agreed on but…I don't know. I've been thinking about you ever since we met."

The pygmy stood up abruptly, all but dragging Wayne's World behind her as she mumbled something about the two of them getting some dinner before she hightailed it into a booth a couple of feet away from us. Bella looked doubly as nervous without her posse around to have her back. "I…I don't know…I…" she stammered, shifting awkwardly in her seat.

I sighed, feeling kinda guilty for causing her so much damn distress. "It's okay if you don't want to." Going for broke I reached out and grabbed the hand that was still playing with that damned teaspoon, the fucking thing clattering onto the Formica table top as she dropped it in shock. "I understand if you don't want to…"

"That's not it," she whispered, barely audible as her eyes fixed on my hand on top of hers. "I just…I'm not good with all of this stuff."

"Neither am I, to be honest," I admitted, both to be honest and to help her out. Because–fuck!–I could still see she was really struggling. "I…I mean, my best friend's a girl and I've done shit with girls and all that but never like this."

I didn't know if she'd heard what I was saying as she went on, her lip almost piercing flesh as she muttered, "I don't know if I'm ready for any of this."

"Is anyone, really?" I mused, letting out another slow breath. "Look, I'm not asking for your hand in marriage or even for the two of us to be more than just friends. All I'm asking for is a chance."

Her eyes were so soft I could feel their gaze all the way in my chest as she finally looked at me, smiling softly. "I guess I could give you that."

The feeling of jubilance as I listened to her words was almost like the first time I'd heard an orchestra perform one of my pieces. "You won't regret it," I assured her, even if I had no fucking way of knowing that. And with my track record and all…

"I'd better head on home," she replied, her hand leaving mine as she threw some cash on the table to settle her end of the bill.

"Can I walk you to your car?" I offered, because I mean, that's what guys do, right? And I was kind of setting myself up as a boyfriend here, so it seemed like the right thing.

She chuckled. "I don't own a car, actually, and why should I, when there's perfectly good public transportation around?"

"Then let me make sure you get home safe," I insisted, knowing like she probably did too that after rush hours, the crazies would come out in full force in the subway and I'd go mad if I went home now, thinking about some psycho rubbing up against her on the subway. "I promise…no strings or other shit attached."

"I don't know, Edward," she hesitated and I had to admit it felt so good to hear my name from her lips. "I'll be fine. I've done it before and…and I know from what Rose told me about you that you live pretty close by. I don't want you to go to any trouble-"

"It'll be more trouble if I sit on my ass at home, wondering if you made it home okay," I interrupted her. "Oh, and don't believe anything Rose told you about me. She's…not a friend right now."

"I gathered that!" she giggled, looking pensive for a moment before she gathered her shit and got up. "So…are you coming?" She smiled that really small, pretty smile as she bit her lip, looking all nervous and shit again.

I nodded, making sure not to crowd her as we walked side by side, a little closer than two strangers would but with me still keeping my distance.

We didn't really talk all that much during her journey back home. I could tell from the look on her face that she was pretty wiped out and as the train rambled on underneath the city, she almost fell asleep with her head against one of the handlebars. Which probably made it a really fucking good thing that I'd badgered her into letting me escort her home because fuck knows what would have happened if I hadn't been there?

"Bad day?" I offered, feeling the stress of my own day weigh on my fucking shoulders as well.

"No worse than any other," she shrugged it off, swaying on her feet as the train slowly started to jolt back to a stop. Our stop. "It's just a bit much sometimes, working at the Institute and going to school and all that. It sometimes makes me scared of what's going to happen when the academic years kicks off full force."

I nodded. "It's been a while since I went to school but I can remember exams week pretty much kicking me in the ass left, right and center."

"What did you study?"

Her question kind of came as a surprise until I realized I hadn't told her all that much about myself. "My main focus was on music composition but I did a lot of extra credit in piano, which is how I ended up at the center." Okay, so I left out a lot of what happened in between and, judging from the inquisitive fucking look she gave me, she'd caught on to that. "I dropped out after my mom died and I had to move out of the house because my dad and I…we're didn't really see eye to eye right."

"Seems like you have a lot of enemies," she remarked, blushing at her own audacity which made her look really fucking cute. "I'm sorry about your mom."

"Thanks," I smiled back, gently shepherding her through the crowded subway entrance before we were back in fresh (well, as fresh as you could get in the city) air. "And yeah, I guess I am a nasty piece of work."

"No, you're not." She spoke so hushed that I had a feeling I wasn't supposed to hear her. But I did, and hearing those words…they made me really fucking happy.

Optimistic even.

Since I didn't really know what to say after that and we were already walking up to what I knew was her building, I settled for just asking Bella for her number, punching the digits into my cell phone before calling her to make sure she had mine. The vibe in the air around us was weird, though, but not so much in a bad kind of way.

Just weird…heavy somehow, the daylight slowly fading into night as the moon and some barely visible stars added their light to that shining from the cars and the lampposts on either side of the street.

It was almost romantic in a way–like one of those really old black and white movies, where the awkward couple takes a moonlit stroll along some deserted beach and the guy starts serenading the woman he has his eye on.

"So this is me," Bella fumbled nervously, her lip once again wedged between her teeth as she fished around in her purse for her house keys. "I guess I'll see you around?"

"Can I call you tomorrow?" Even though I was trying not to sound like a fucking school boy, my eagerness to see her again didn't completely cooperate.

Not that she seemed to mind, though, because the smile that broke through was all I needed to keep myself from bashing my head against the lamppost. "I have class tomorrow morning at nine but you can call me before that…if you want."

It meant that I had to set my alarm to a time regular people actually got up but that was a small sacrifice to make. "Okay, I'll talk to you then, I guess."

And because old Hollywood had apparently rubbed off on me after all, I grabbed her hand and brought it to my lips, her skin was soft and tasting of sweetness as I kissed it before gently dropping her hand from mine again to find her looking at me with her gentle eyes, her cheeks visibly flushed against the evening sky and her mouth forming a surprised 'o'. "Goodnight Bella."

I turned on my heels right there and then, dawdling a little until I was sure she'd made it safely back inside her building before I set off on my journey home again, knowing that if I would have stayed I would have done something neither one of us was ready for at that moment.

Like kiss her lips.

Or worse.

Walking away there was one thing I knew without a shadow of a doubt, though.

I was so fucked.

* * *

_**Thoughs?**_


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

* * *

**Discovery:**** 1. **the act or an instance of discovering. **2. **something discovered. **3. **_Law. _compulsory disclosure, as of facts or documents. **4. **( _initial capital letter, italics _) _U.S. Aerospace. _the third space shuttle to orbit and return to earth.

**Discovery**

_What on earth am I doing?_

My heart was pounding and fluttering at the same time, and both in equal violence. My hand–the one he'd just kissed–clasped over it as I leaned against my shut and bolted door. Closing my eyes as I breathed in the familiar scent of home, I tried to wrap my head around everything that had just happened in the hopes of understanding a little of what had made me agree to be Edward's friend. Or sort of girlfriend. Maybe. Kind of.

I'd been so nervous all day that my mind slowly working itself into a frenzy with every hour that had passed and every minute that brought our supervised coffee date closer. At some point even Jasper was starting to get fed up, preferring to head on over to casa van Leyden to sort out some stuff in Johannes' study (and run the risk of running into James, who'd I'd still been fortunate enough to avoid) than to spend another minute with me and my constant fidgeting.

When the day which had started out so good with Esme's causal overhearing my conversation with Jasper and her suggestion that she might be able to get us into contact with the family of Amelia Cullen–_Lady_ Amelia Cullen–the woman who may or may not have been the writer of those beautiful words directed at one of the greatest composers of his time.

We hadn't been able to find much on her though. The frustration that had settled in for us being so close and yet still very far away from unlocking the mystery that could shed a whole new light on the maestro's life, might have been a contributing factor to my slowly dwindling sanity as the day progressed.

I swear, I hadn't even been as nervous when I'd called in for my application into NYU's PhD program or when I'd had to face the committee investigating Banner's unprofessional behavior. Well, maybe not quite as nervous as I'd been during the latter process but…I was nervous enough.

I'd been on the verge of throwing up when it finally became time for us to head on over to the diner and had it not been for the fact that I hadn't been able to eat anything since breakfast that morning, I probably would have. Of course the nausea combined with the nerves and the constant knowledge that I was currently hijacking the first date of two people who deserved so much better for their budding romance than a measly diner and a friend clinging to them like shit to a stick, made me clam up like an oyster the minute Edward set foot inside the restaurant.

For the first fifteen minutes, I didn't even dare to look at him, though his voice as he spoke to my new friends and all three of them kept on trying to engage me in their conversation like I was some people-shy five year old, slowly thawed my nerves a little. It was…strange. From my little shell, I was able to hear him in such a different way to pretty much every single conversation involving him that I'd been a part of. Gone was the guy all of my friends had been warning about, leaving a man in place that warranted the strange attraction I'd felt ever since he first barged into me.

It was his voice, even more so than his actual words that had set me at ease enough to finally speak; my emotions were pushed to the backburner as I heard him out, my mind contently telling me to be cautious…to not trust as easily as I would have done in the past. But in the end, the sincerity in his eyes and the nervous energy of his body language won and I found myself believing his words and even going along with them.

It wasn't so much his words but the calmness with which he spoke and the resoluteness with which he answered each question Alice and Jasper fired at him. The good-naturedness as he listened to their stories about the archives; stories which I knew for a fact bored most people to tears.

In spite of what I'd seen of him, I realized he might be a good man after all.

Or at least trying to be one.

When Alice and Jasper left for a nearby booth, my panic started afresh, making me want to dart after them and never return or, even better yet, vanish into thin air.

But he made me feel better, just by being him; his plea for friendship suddenly making me realize how lonely I was in this big city and how nice it would be to at least have someone to talk to. There was part of me, though, that wouldn't stop at talking; my mind conjuring up a rose-colored image of two people walking around central park, his arm thrown loosely around her waist and her head resting on his shoulder. I'd never known that type of company and I never realized just how much I'd been missing out on until this strange, formerly angry man stepped into my life and made me feel all sorts of things I never thought I'd feel again.

Companionship…I didn't know how much my heart longed for it until I felt that vision take a hold of me–which led me to him. A small smile played on my lips as I took a few steps forward, my eyes drawn outside to where I'd stood just minutes before…to where he kissed me. Well, part of me at least.

He wanted to be my…_whatever_, and the thought of that, though scary, made me feel an excitement for life that had been absent for God only knew how long. Sure I'd been excited about stuff during the past couple of years but most of that had to do with history–the people whose lives had ended a long time ago. My own life, though, had been sadly neglected.

The nervous excitement I'd felt that morning when I left my house was back again as I went through the motions of heating up some leftover soup, my legs curled underneath my body as I sat on my sofa, ladling food into my mouth with one hand and flicking through channel after channel of mindless crap with the other, though this time the excitement belonged to me and not to the subject I was studying.

It was daunting to say the least, to finally go through all of those things teen movies thrive upon. Will he call me? Does he really want me like that? Do I even want him like that? Will this ever work?

Growing up very sheltered as the only child of a small town police chief, my dating history was pretty much blank and, had it not been for all those memories I wanted to forget, I wouldn't have had to boost any experience with the subject matter to begin with. I felt so far out of my comfort zone that a part of me was even giving up on being nervous about it and let it all wash over me like a tidal wave, knowing that if I wanted to be living my life instead of just going through the motions of it, sticking my neck out and risking my head getting chopped off was inevitable.

If only this whole thing wasn't so confusing…

I wasn't close to figuring it out in the morning when I got ready for class but at least I had spent a night dreaming and I felt rested as I rushed through my morning routine.

I realized it was strange as I walked the familiar route to the subway, how quickly my feelings for him had changed. If someone would have asked me yesterday how I felt about Edward Masen, I would have struggled to come up with a satisfying reply. I didn't really feel much of anything towards him. Fear maybe, and a hint of curiosity about what he had to say to me that was so important that it couldn't be done in the streets.

Now, though, my feelings were slowly starting to grow into something so much stronger that part of me was scared to death…of jumping the gun and falling for him when he only saw me as a new friend and ending up hurt and heartbroken in the end–but mostly of Rose and Jake being right about him after all.

"No, they're wrong. I know it." I muttered to myself, gaining a funny look from the lady sitting next to me. I had no base for my certainty, I knew that much. It was only a gut feeling that made me sure that Edward could be trusted. But it was strong and even though my voice of reason was yelling that I couldn't know for sure, it stood firm none the less.

Exciting the subway station I pulled my phone out of my pockets and checked the screen, like I'd done almost obsessive-compulsively ever since I had left home.

No calls.

_He'll call_. I closed my eyes for a hint of a moment, remembering his insistence as he wheedled my number out of me. But then, a nagging voice at the back of my mind disagreed. _Why are you so sure of this? What do you have that will ever attract a guy like him? And do you even want to? He's trouble…_

I hated that voice and not just because it made my thoughts gloomy when all I wanted was to see a silver lining. It was because _he_ had made such good use of that voice that the effects of it still lingered today.

Even in spite of my fight, I managed to fall so far into depression that when the little screen did light up with a call made by an unfamiliar number, I almost dropped the damn thing from sheer shock. "H-hello?" My voice shook like that was the first time I was doing something like this, which wasn't so far from the truth to be honest.

"Bella?" His voice had the same soothing capacity as it did last night, though it still had that early-morning gravel to it.

"It's me," I whispered, my heart pounding in my throat as I realized that the voice of optimism triumphed over that little nagging voice of reason this time. _He called. He really called_! "You weren't joking when you said you were setting the alarm, were you?"

A part of me felt very guilty for dragging him out of his bed so early but the other part felt elated that apparently a boy found me desirable enough to give up his sleep. "Nope," he chuckled. "It's one of the perks of being such a fuck-up: you get to be as lazy as you fucking want unless, of course, you have a really good fucking reason to get out of bed early."

Growing up in a household where the word 'darn' was considered a grave blasphemy, I kind of had to get used to the curse words falling so freely from his mouth. Except in the deepest, darkest corners of my mind, I had to admit that it was almost sexy, hearing a man so liberated with his words. "I wish I had that luxury," I answered, both in reply to his statement and my own musings.

"Nah, you don't," he countered, a rustling sound in the background making me wonder where he was. "You're actually making something of your life, which is more than could be said for me."

"Then change it," I suggested, feeling very bold all of a sudden. "Nothing is impossible until you've tried it." It was my dad's mantra and I'd heard it so many times over the years that even I was starting to believe in those words.

"You may be right there." His laughter rung out through the phone and made me wish he was with me instead of where he was. "I actually made an appointment with one of my former teachers today…gave him a call when I got back last night, and I guess he was willing to see if we could work something out."

"That's great!" I gasped. Even from our short conversation the day before, I'd already sensed that his music was a very important part of who he was. Without it, he was literally lost….gaining it back could be the remaking of him.

"I hope it will be," he muttered, the sound of him nervous a stark contrast to the image he usually wanted to bring across as a good-for-nothing badass. "Anyway…so what do you have planned for today?"

"Just boring stuff," I sighed, my eyes on the front of the building where, in just a couple of minutes, my Historical Theory class would start. "Class and then work."

"What are you working on at the moment?" he wanted to know. "You said something about working for an archive, didn't you?"

I nodded, chuckling when I realized he couldn't actually see me. "I'm actually cataloguing the legacy of a big composer at the moment…Johannes van Leyden?"

"You're working on the _maestro_ himself?" A sense of pride surged through me as Edward whistled. "That's great! So, what, you actually get to hold the original score to '_The Land of Shadows' _in your hands?"

"Maybe," I grinned, "when my boss and Johannes' freaky grandson deem me worthy of actually getting within a ten feet radius of the good stuff. So far all I've been trusted with is cataloguing the library."

"Van Leyden, you said?" His voice suddenly gained a hard edge that made my caution signs glare. "If he's the guy I think he is, you'd better be careful around him."

"Yeah," I breathed, relieved that it was such concern about my involvement with James that set him off. "I heard he was a bit of a creep."

"A bit of a creep?" His laughter was humorless, my concern growing as I listened to him. "From what I've heard the man's one of the biggest sadists in town." I might have squeaked a little, my throat dry and my hands so clammy I almost dropped the phone as I felt another panic attack setting on while Edward obliviously droned on. "One of the guys I used to hang out with once went to a party at van Leyden's place and though Garrett's pretty hardcore, what he found there went too far even for him. I mean…the guy's got a fucking dungeon for God's sake."

"A d-dungeon?" Flashes of medieval torture combined with what I knew–what I'd _felt_–about present day sadomasochism passed in front of my mind's eye, my resolve to never, ever, set foot in the van Leyden home without at least three of my colleagues and a family sized can of pepper spray.

"He's into the very heavy duty stuff, Bella," Edward pressed, his concern for me making my heart leap a little–and this time not with fear. "Be careful."

"I will be," I whispered, his gentle voice made my heart want to burst out of my chest. At least with my history I could always be counted on to be prudent. "I have to go, though. Class is starting in just a couple of minutes and I have to get all the way to the third floor." A small part of me felt like skipping, even if it would be the first time in my entire school career that I would miss a class when I wasn't sick. _Who am I kidding? Five minutes into my rebellion I'll feel so guilty I'll sneak back in anyway. _

"Before you hang up I wanted to ask you something." He was nervous again and though I found it very sweet, I also found myself getting just as nervous as he appeared to be. "Will you have lunch with me tomorrow? I mean…I know you probably have class or work or whatever, but I was just wondering…"

His words made me feel strongly warm on the inside, my heart fluttering as I realized that he wanted to see me just as much as I wanted to see him. "I'd love to! I only have classes early in the morning and late in the afternoon so most of my day is still wide open."

"Good." I could hear his relief through the phone, my smile widening to crazy proportions as I dragged my feet on my way to class. "Meet you somewhere on campus?"

"Okay," I smiled, picturing hanging out with him on my own familiar stomping grounds. "Talk to you then. Good luck during your meeting!"

"Thanks, Brown Eyes."

A strange feeling started to creep over me as I pocketed my phone again, and not a feeling I was at all comfortable with. Looking around me, though, I didn't see anything out of the ordinary except for a hint of tweed on the back of a quickly retreating man.

_He_ wore tweed.

Shaking my head I concluded that I must have lost my mind because, though Professor Arkham had announced his guest appearance in our Historical Theory class, I knew that wasn't supposed to happen for months. There was no way _he_ could be here. _This is a university, Bella. There's bound to be lots of people walking around in tweed here, especially in the history department. The stuff Edward said about James van Leyden just messed with your head._

Class was the perfect distraction, both from the strange sense of foreboding I was feeling ever since I'd entered the building and from my already building nerves over my lunch date with Edward. From earlier classes on Historical Theory I'd taken back in Holland, I'd already learned that it was a particularly challenging subject; one that forced you to look at your entire process of doing research and writing papers in a different way. Still, as much as I tried to keep up with what was being discussed in class, a lot of it just went over my head and I knew I had to spend most of my evening studying just to get to grasp with the source material or I could already feel failure looming up ahead.

And when it came to the tentative timeframe I'd set myself, failure was not an option because running out of money if I did was not an option. After all, there was only so far my college fund stretched and if I'd have to dip into the money meant for set me up after I was done…it was going to screw up all those plans I'd so carefully crafted out of the ruins of my former life.

Failure was not an option for me!

I spent most of my free afternoon catching up with the notes I'd failed to take in during class; the intricacies of truth and objectivity and how to get there when almost every single source you had to work with–and even your own interpretation of those sources–was subjective starting to get through to me now that I had more time to focus and reflect on them.

It was only when my stomach started to audibly growl and my eyes were starting to strain to see the words on the page in my ever darkening apartment, that I stopped to heat up some food, my phone ringing just as I was getting ready to settle down with a plate of macaroni and cheese.

Unknown caller.

For a moment I thought it was Edward again but then I remembered I'd added his number to my contacts as soon as I was able to.

Strange.

"Hello?" My voice was slightly shaky as I answered the call and I had to remind myself that I was safe in my own apartment, with the door locked and bolted and nobody being able to see me with as high up as I was.

"Is this Isabella Swan speaking?" A strange, genteel voice asked.

My heart pounded as I tried to figure out who it was. "Yes, this is she."

"I'm sorry to disturb you like this but I got your number from a mutual friend, Esme McCarty?" He paused, my heart still hammering but this time in anticipation as I started to realize who might be on the other end of the phone. "My name is Carlisle Cullen and if I'm correct, you're quite anxious to fine out a little more about one of my ancestors?"

Just like that, the frustration I'd been feeling over my lack of progress on the van Leyden research was gone, vanished as a whole new prospect of possible discoveries loomed up ahead like the Promised Land.

"I am," I replied, my eagerness shining through even though I did my best to temper it a little. No need to scare the poor man, especially not after he went through all this trouble. "Would you be able to answer a few of my questions?"

The man chuckled. "Of course I would," he answered, the friendliness of his voice as well as the connection to Esme putting me more and more at ease. "But I could do you one better: how about I show you around the place she lived in?"

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_**Thoughts?**_

_**PI is up for Fic of the Week over on tehlemonadestand (thanks to a rec from the amazing SunflowerFanfiction). Please vote for me or for any of the other amazing stories. You can find the poll on .net (replace spaces actual dots) Thanks!**_


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

* * *

**Layer:**** 1. **a thickness of some material laid on or spread over a surface: _a layer of soot on the window sill; two layers of paint. _**2. **bed; stratum: _alternating layers of basalt and sandstone. _**3. **a person or thing that lays: _a carpet layer. _**4. **a hen kept for egg production. **5. **one of several items of clothing worn one on top of the other.

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**Layers**

I felt my nerves pounding in my throat when I entered the retro-style little diner tucked away on a quiet street off Broadway the next day. Although Edward had been nothing but nice to me when we had spoken on the phone, I still couldn't shake my anxiety.

Or maybe it was _because_ he had been so nice to me?

It took me no time to spot him; his tall frame and slightly brusque demeanor stood out amidst the well-worn leather covering the booths and the steel clad red Formica tabletops. The people filling those same booths looked so fashionably bedraggled that it made me unsure of whether I stood out like a sore thumb in my cheap, unfashionable clothes or fit right in.

Edward smiled as he spotted me and made me forget all about my worries as I made my way over to him and stumbled on some deathtrap purse a girl with bangs hanging well over her eyes had left in the center aisle.

"Sorry," I mumbled in reply to the death glare she gave me, wondering whether her hair was keeping her from actually seeing how much of a safety hazard her bag was, or whether she was just too plain stupid or arrogant to care. Not that I would ever voice my thoughts out loud, though.

"You want me to put the fear of God into that ugly bitch?" Edward growled. His eyes menacing as he leveled on the girl sitting near us. "I swear, if it wasn't for the food here I would have put a torch to this place a long time ago and fucking burned all these idiots to the ground along with it."

"And still you wonder why my friends warned me about you!" I snickered, rolling my eyes as I gingerly slid in with to him. "You really need to work on your anger management issues." Blushing at my own forwardness, I ducked as much as I could behind my own bangs and sat down across the booth from him with my eyes firmly attached to the table top.

Even in spite of that, I could feel the sparkling glimmer in his eyes, my heart fluttering wildly at the realization that they were directed at me. "You're not the first person to say that to me."

"Then perhaps it would be a good idea to listen for once!" I snorted, my bashfulness slightly forgotten, as a heavy-set waitress in a traditional fifties style waitress outfit approached our table.

"I never thought I'd see the day when you showed up with a date, laddie!" she teased Edward who, completely out of character, acted shy at her playful remark. It made my heart pound a little faster at the sight of him, so adorably flustered. "And she seems like a good sort of lass, too! Good job!"

"Bella, this is Siobhan Connery," Edward introduced me to his friend, "who, just because she happens to feed me on a regular basis, thinks she has the right to butt into my private life and try to make me believe she's related to the actor."

"He's my second cousin twice removed, actually." The woman nodded, tapping her order pad with the back of her pen. "But we don't hang out with him as much as we did before he went into retirement."

Edward groaned; shaking his head as his chest vibrated with laughter. "Like you want me to actually believe Sean Connery would ditch the five star meals of whatever fancy hotel he's staying at to hang out with some distant relative at the local greasy spoon?"

She winked at me, basically admitting it was all just a joke. "It makes for a good story, doesn't it lad? Now you want the same as usual or do you want me to go all fancy and tell you today's special?"

"Since when do you have a daily special?" Edward snorted, barely voiding a swat with her notepad as Siobhan lunged at him with it. "I want the usual. Bella?"

I cast a quick glance at the menu, swiftly spotting my usual go-to order. "A cheeseburger and some iced tea, please."

"And the girl eats too!" Siobhan praised me as if I'd just done something marvelous. "That's more than I can say for some of my customers." She quickly glanced over her shoulder at the frighteningly thin hipster girls before treating us with another friendly smile for me and a wink for Edward.

"You know her well?" I asked, already assuming the answer would be 'yes'.

"I've been coming here for as long as I've lived on this side of the park," Edward confirmed. "It's not that far away from my house and the food here is amazing…and affordable. Not that I'm trying to be a fucking cheap ass."

"No, I understand," I muttered, knowing all too well from recent experience how life in the big city meant that you sometimes had to be very creative to make the most of your money. "So how did your meeting go yesterday?"

"It went good." He had a hesitant smile that made me wonder if maybe it didn't go much better than just 'good'. "They're willing to let me come back and finish my degree with certain expectations as long as I manage to pay their tuition, commit to a tough course load, and maintain a high GPA…but that's to be expected really."

The way he studiously kept his eyes downed and played along the edge of table made me realize just how nervous he really was. My heart wanted to leap out and give him a hug even though the rest of me was a little more hesitant. "Are you going to accept their terms?"

He shrugged. "Tanya's already promised she'll front me the money…" I barely managed to hide my scowl as his voice trailed off while his body slumped against the creaking leather; jealousy flaring red hot through my veins even though he'd already assured me the woman was nothing more than a friend. "It's just…" he went on, "I might not be able to stick to the rest of their stipulations."

"Why not?" I asked, for it seemed to me that the money would be by far the worst of his problems. _It would have been for me…_

Again, he shrugged, a look of shame passing over his face before he answered in a soft, almost inaudible voice, "I might not be around in the foreseeable future, which makes attending classes and sticking to my course load a bit hard."

I felt my mouth go dry, all of the warnings my friends had given me about this man sprung to the forefront of my mind again. "What do you mean, 'you may not be around?' A-are you leaving?" The thought of him leaving again just as we were getting to know each other pained me more than I expected. Or maybe I should have expected it, because the way in which he had occupied my mind ever since our not-quite-date, and even before, had been something I recognized only because I'd read about it in romance novels.

For the first time in what seemed like ages, his eyes locked with mine and the sheer amount of helpless remorse I saw in there broke my heart. "I hope it won't come to that but…yeah. There's some stuff going on in my life that might force me to disappear for a while." His eyes were burning with intensity, his hand fisting around the edge of the table as if it was all he could do to keep himself from reaching out for me. "I will come back, Bella. No matter what happens, I _will_ come back to you."

"Okay," I muttered, feeling like I needed to say _something_, even though my mind was in a complete state of turmoil both from the shock and confusion of everything he'd said in the past couple of minutes.

"Knowing you…" He shook his head, the self-hate naked on his face. "It makes me regret all the fucked up shit I did in the past. If it hadn't been for my own fucked up behavior, I'd never be in this situation but…yeah."

Again, he shrugged, his eyes avoiding me as a heavy silence fell over us. Part of me was itching to fill that void with questions about the necessity of his need to disappear, but there was something in the way he spoke–or had not spoken–about what happened that told me he wasn't willing to share that story yet.

And it scared me.

"It actually all happened the day we first met," he spoke after a while, his eyes apologetic as he no doubt remembered his harsh words and violent reaction when we bumped into each other in the stairwell of my apartment building.

So does that mean Jacob is somehow involved? It would explain why he and Edward seemed to react so violently to one another every time they met, though; again, I lacked the guts to ask, settling instead for the easy way. "I guess that explains the bad mood."

"Again, I'm sorry about that," Edward muttered as the waitress brought our food out to us with my plate almost overflowing with the most enormous cheeseburger I'd ever seen in my life, as well as some fries added around it.

"I told you," Edward chuckled at my shocked appraisal of my meal.

"You did," I nodded, groaning as the hearty taste of my burger hit my taste buds, my cheeks flaming as I caught Edward's glare; his eyes darkening and his lips slightly opening as he looked at me like _I_ was on the menu.

Not wanting to think too much about whatever came with having a sort-of boyfriend, I focused on my food, my eyes focused on the ever dwindling portion as I dutifully worked my way through the plate, keeping my mouth filled to the point where I could get away with only the barest minimum in answers.

If Edward noticed my sudden awkwardness, he didn't let on, his voice animated as he spoke about his life before he dropped out and the various places his friends had ended as they took their first steps into the domestic art scene.

"Have you ever been to the Met?" he asked, his eyes returning to me but not in a way that could offend me. "I mean…you're studying van Leyden so at least part of you must like his work or you wouldn't have focused on him, so…" He rambled, taking a deep breath when he realized what he was doing. "I guess what I'm trying to ask is whether or not you've ever heard his shit played at a live venue. I know the Met's supposed to perform _The Land of Shadows_ this winter."

I shook my head, cramming another mouthful of fries into my mouth.

"I'll take you there sometime…if you want." His hesitant look made my stuttering heart want to be whole for him as I gave him what I could in my own cautious smile. "I know a few people who could get us in."

"I-I'd like that." This time, I forced myself to answer, hating myself more and more for the ever-present panic and fear as I found part of me wishing I could have what every girl had: a normal relationship with a nice boy.

Even though neither of us could ever be labeled as _normal_.

"Good." His grin this time was less tense, my 'yes' celebrated like a victory as he picked at the remainders of his own food. "I'll ask around…see when we're most likely to get in."

I nodded, biting my lip as I tried to fight the surge of panic that came with knowing that would definitely be a date. Having lunch together could just easily be reasoned away as something friendly but visiting the theater…getting all dressed up and walking in there side by side? It screamed _date_.

"Are you alright, Bella?" His eyes voiced his concern along with his words as his hand reached out to touch mine but hung idly as he thought better of it.

"No," I admitted, feeling helpless tears burn in the corners of my mind. "But that's not your fault. I'm just…I had some nasty experiences which I'm not quite ready to talk about." I sighed, feeling the tension as Edward caught up. Over the years I'd experienced that there were usually two ways people reacted to hearing about me…about what I was willing to share, at least: anger and rejection.

It was a comfort that Edward had reverted to the former. I doubted at that moment if I could have born the sting of the latter. "It makes me go all weird with people…men in particular. Even though it's been years…I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he spoke with a softness in his voice belying the harshness of his posture. "None of this is your fault….and thanks for telling me, for _trusting_ me."

"I'd understand if this changes things," I muttered. I felt so desolate I wished the earth would swallow me. "If you don't…" I couldn't finish my sentence, the unspoken words hung between us as I mustered the courage to meet his eyes.

"Bella," he whispered, his hand a little shaky as he reached up to brush away a tear that had slipped from my eye. "Nothing has changed for me. I still want to hang out with you and explore whatever this thing is between us, even if we have to take it as slow. I want you to feel comfortable being with me."

My lip trembled as I reached out to wrap my clammy hand around his, my voice heavy with emotion as I breathed. "Thank you."

A great weight had been lifted from my shoulders in that moment; the fact that Edward knew made me feel instantly more at ease around him than I had around most people that had entered my life ever since it had all happened. Not that I was anywhere near normal, or even ready to be closer to him than the nice, safe gap between us that existed at that moment.

It made me want to spend more time with him; find out more about what made him tick…what caused him to smile the way he did when he told me about some of his favorite places or how his mom had introduced him to classical music. "I still can't believe you get to spend your days researching Johannes van Leyden," he spoke, shaking his head. "If I didn't like you so much, I would have been insanely jealous…I think I still am."

"Then it's a good thing you like me," I beamed back, feeling my cheeks flash with red at my pitiful attempt at flirting back. A look at the clock brought a sigh from my lips, the hour creeping closer to four; the time my next class would start.

"You need to head back to campus, right?" Edward guessed, his face betraying a disappointment similar to mine.

I nodded. "I had a great time, though."

"So did I." He answered. "We'll do it again real soon." I nodded as I rose, gathered my bag and waved goodbye to Siobhan as Edward escorted me back outside, his body close but not so much so that it would make me uncomfortable. "Would it be okay if I called you when you get back from school?"

"Okay," I nodded, biting my lip to stop myself from squealing. "I have somewhere to go before I head back home, though, but around nine should be fine."

"Then I'll call you at nine," he promised, his long, pianist fingers gliding over the palm of my hand as he lifted it to his lips with a feather-light touch burning into my skin as he pressed a light kiss to it. "Be safe, Bella."

I smiled, feeling my heart pound in my throat as I wished more than any time before that I had the guts to just close the gap and kiss him; _actually_ kiss him. "Don't get into trouble."

"Never!" He grinned rakishly as he turned on his heels, my heart already missing the nearness of him as I watched him go. My legs only remembered how to move after he'd disappeared on the horizon.

I was certain in that moment that this was what it was supposed to feel like when you were falling in love, no matter how much the rational side of me was telling me it was too fast, too soon, and would only end in heartbreak.

But then, a little hopeful spark inside of me wasn't so sure of that. I mean, I'd told him how I felt and he actually understood. He wasn't running or weirding out on me…no, he was willing to take things slow and stay in the game, hoping just like me that it would take us someplace great, even if we would only move at a snail's pace.

Fortunately, my afternoon class allowed me to just sit in the back with my thoughts. By the time class finished and I was out in the chilly evening air again, I was already late to meet up with Jasper, who'd agreed to tag along during my meeting with Doctor Carlisle Cullen–the man who might or might not be able to unlock the mystery we'd been breaking our mind over for the past couple of weeks.

He seemed as excited as I was as we met up at the subway exit at 63rd and Lexington. Jasper's tall frame buzzing and his mouth running a mile a minute, updating me on everything I'd missed at the office over the past couple of days as I half-jogged beside him in my struggle to keep up with the pace his much longer legs set.

We both fell silent the minute we stood in front of the magnificent four story building that had been home to the Cullen family for at least a century, if I had to go from what Dr. Cullen had told me on the phone.

Coming up against so much history but, most of all, so much wealth made us both falter in our steps–my throat ran dry as I could sense Jasper taking a deep, steadying breath next to me before either of us had the guts to so much as ring the doorbell.

The person greeting us could not be Dr. Cullen himself–the haughty attitude and stiff, starchy outfit screaming butler even before the man demanded us to state our business in this magnificent home–a home which, going on his expression, we were far too insignificant to even look at in his eyes.

"Isabella Swan, sir," I managed to force out, my voice much smaller than the rebellious streak still alive inside of me would have liked. "I believe Doctor Cullen is expecting us?"

With as much reluctance as a human being could communicate in body language alone, the man stepped aside, looking at us as if we were some bunch of iconoclasts, looking to set fire to the damn place as he pointed up the ornate marble staircase leading up to the first floor. "You will find Doctor Cullen in the drawing room."

_Right. Like I actually know where that is_! From what I knew about the architecture of a house built in the time period, I figured the drawing room would probably on the second floor someplace off the landing but as we rose, our footsteps were muffled by the thick Persian rug covering the marble as the floor came into view, my heart plummeted at the sheer amount of doors we found.

"You want to try one and just go by a process of elimination?" Jasper smirked next to me, obviously being of a same mindset.

Just then, a door opened in front of us and my eyes followed the movement. They stopped short from where a man emerged, only to see a _very_ familiar pair of green eyes staring back at me, framed by a mop of unruly reddish hair I'd come to know so well, to the right of me.

The man, unbeknownst to me, followed my gaze, a wry smile entering his fair complexion as they rested on the painted picture mounted on the wall. "It's a beautiful picture isn't it? He's my son," he answered my unspoken question. "It was painted five years ago….before he ran away."

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_**Thoughts?**_


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

* * *

**Heirloom: **_**noun **_**1. **a family possession handed down from generation to generation. **2. **_Law. _property neither personal nor real that descends to the heir of an estate as part of the real property. _**adjective **_**3. **being an old variety that is being cultivated again: _heirloom vegetables and fruits. __**Origin: **_  
1375–1425; late Middle English _heirlome. _

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**Heirloom**

_Just then, a door opened in front of us and my eyes followed the movement. They stopped short from where a man emerged, only to see a very familiar pair of green eyes staring back at me, framed by a mop of unruly reddish hair I'd come to know so well, to the right of me._

_The man, unbeknownst to me, followed my gaze, a wry smile entering his fair complexion as they rested on the painted picture mounted on the wall. "It's a beautiful picture isn't it? He's my son," he answered my unspoken question. "It was painted five years ago….before he ran away." _

I didn't hear his words over the blood screaming through my veins; an icy sweat breaking out along my skin as I realized that the man whom I had come so close to letting inside parts of me that hadn't been opened in years had lied to me from the start.

Even his name wasn't real…

I blinked, trying to retain some of my sanity when my whole being was begging me to run, hide and forget all about Edward _Masen_, whose real name, apparently was Edward _Cullen_.

"That's your date from yesterday, isn't it? The guy we met up with?" Jasper had blurted out before I could duck out of the way and make my hasty retreat.

I blinked again, my eyes probably mirroring those in Japanese manga cartoons. "I…umm…yes?" I whispered in response, barely finding the breath to even answer him.

Like mine just now, Carlisle's eyes widened with shock and, if my eyes weren't deceiving me, some signs of _hope_ as he stared at me. "You know my son?" Suddenly, I had become the very reluctant focus of everyone in the room, even the snobby butler who'd somehow crept up behind us.

"I…I," I continued to stammer, fighting every urges of survival as I forced myself to speak and at least tried to appear normal. "I met him a few times. He…he told me a little bit about…well." I blushed, too embarrassed to air out the Cullen family's dirty laundry, even though Jasper appeared to be the only one in the room who didn't know about those stains.

Carlisle sensed where I was going, his smile sad as he nodded, avoiding his gaze. "How about we ask Alastair to make us some tea while we retreat to the sitting room? I believe you want to ask me a few questions about my late grandmother?"

My shoulders sagged with relief as some of the tension deflated from my body as I followed Carlisle and Jasper into a room that seemed to have been transported straight form some eighteenth century French chateau or something. It looked…ornate for lack of a better word.

Pushing all thoughts of Edward and how I felt about the fact that he'd lied to me aside–I had to do my job here–I focused on the sound of Carlisle's voice as he started talking. "The house has been left in almost the exact same state as it was when my grandmother lived here," Carlisle explained, taking a seat in an elegant, though not very comfy looking, chair across from the matching settee he invited us to sit on. "Though, of course, over the years a few modern comforts have been added here and there."

"Could you tell us a little bit about your grandmother?" Jasper, now in full-on historian mode asked as he gently placed his phone on the table so that it could record everything said between the three of us.

I smiled, sitting back as some more of the tension that had swirled up inside of me started to wane again, though it still lingered in the background like a nasty feeling of nausea that would not go away no matter how badly you tried to expel it. It made me glad to take the backseat for once and just listen as Jasper took the lead.

Carlisle nodded, waiting until the stuck up butler had left after bringing us tea and those kind of dainty little cakes and sandwiches of which you didn't know whether to eat them or study them like an exhibit in a museum. Not that Jasper seemed to be so unsure, though. He just wolfed them down like his momma didn't feed him enough.

"My family's origins lie in Scotland, where apparently there's a castle baring the family name." He brought his hands together, his fingertips drumming against each other as he mused. "It was the seat of Amelia's uncle and the house she spent most of her childhood years in."

"So she's nobility?" Jasper confirmed, going on what we already knew about the woman.

Carlisle nodded. "Her father was the younger brother of the Earl of Cullen, an impoverished nobleman like so many from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries."

Jasper and I both smiled, remembering that oh so well from our research into families just like this, who'd all traveled to the land of opportunity to make a new start, away from the shame and disappointment their downfall had haunted them with in their motherland. "Was that why Lady Amelia moved to the United States?" I asked, forgetting my preference of staying in the background as the excitement of getting closer to the secret made my heart beat faster.

Again, Carlisle nodded as he sipped his tea in a way that was almost charming; the refinement and old-age charm rolling off him in waves. _How different he is to his son….and yet Edward is more like him than I could ever have imagined._ "By the time she was sixteen, her uncle's position had become so precarious that something had to be done to save the name and what remained of their former glory. You see, Amelia's father had died of blood poisoning, contracted after a nasty fall from his horse. When she was four years old so her uncle had more or less adopted her, of course this also meant that, seeing as she was the only 'available' woman of a marriageable age within the family at that time, everyone's hope rested on her to secure a very good match that would bring in some much needed money."

We both nodded, Jasper and I, having heard this same story over and over again in our studies; the impoverished nobles of the old country married off to the single boys and girls from Gilded Age America. That had been another great way for both families involved to acquire what they had wanted: the Brits needed wads of cash to save them from bankruptcy, and the Americans that very sought after received a noble title. Who cared if the bride and groom were actually suited for one another or ended up being locked in an unhappy marriage they couldn't escape?

My heart hurt for Amelia and the pressure that had weighed on her shoulders as I listened to Carlisle's gentle voice as it carried on. "Through Amelia's brother, who'd moved out here to escape the chokehold of aristocracy and its unyielding conceptions, and made something of the talents God had blessed him with; they managed to secure an agreement with the Blake family, who'd earned their millions along the likes of J.P Morgan in the Northern Securities Company." He shook his head, his smile wry and likely full of repulsion for his families share in the 'single-lady stakes' of the Gilded Age. "So sixteen year old Amelia and her mother were shipped off to another continent to confirm the contract–which the Blake's had been unwilling to sign without ascertaining whether or not there was something amiss with the girl."

"But instead she met Johannes," I sighed, blushing when I realized I'd spoken out loud again.

Carlisle didn't seem offended, his chuckles genuine but not at my expense. "She might have, yes, but she still married Henry Blake, even if their marriage lasted only two years before he died in the Second Battle of the Somme."

"Like Johannes," Jasper mused, his eyes searching mine for confirmation.

"Apparently," Carlisle answered, sitting up as his face took on a look of keen interest. "Can you tell me a little bit more about what brought you to my grandmother? Miss Swan told me on the phone that you found a letter that may have been written by her in a book belonging to Johannes van Leyden?"

I nodded, reaching into my bag to pull out a copy; one I always kept on me just in case. "We stumbled across it by accident when we were cataloguing van Leyden's library," I explained, handing the copy over to Carlisle. As I handed over the paper, my hands were trembling; my mind still completely unable to get over the fact that it was Edward's _dad_ I was sitting across from. "Considering what is known about their acquaintanceship we figured it may have been written by Lady Amelia but we're not sure. We were hoping that perhaps you could tell us whether or not this is your grandmother's handwriting?"

"I couldn't be sure," Carlisle muttered, his eyes gliding over the page. "My grandmother passed away a long time ago and I have no recollection of her handwriting." Disappointment seeped over me like a sudden rain shower on a sunny day, my hope only returning when Carlisle's voice spoke again. "I do believe my father saved some of her belongings after she passed, though, so we may yet find a sample of her handwriting in the attic."

"That would be great!" Jasper's voice mirrored my excitement as he sat up a little straighter, poised to sprint up the stairs in search of a loft space the minute we would be given the go-ahead.

"If you can spare the time, we could have a look right now," Carlisle suggested, his face not really letting on whether he was inviting us because he was starting to get as psyched as we were about this whole experience or because he was feeling some weird sense of obligation towards us. "It might be a lengthy search, though, since I don't think anyone has been up there in years. I would understand if you'd rather come back after I've done the dirty work."

"We'd love to help," I answered before Jasper could say anything, my anger and disappointment with the son reassigned to a dull ache in the back of my mind as I found myself more and more in favor of the father.

"Of course," the man himself chuckled, looking so much like his son at that moment that it broke my heart. "I should have known a pair of historians would jump at the chance to find out what secrets lie buried in the attics of the old families of New York."

Coming from him, it wasn't completely clear whether he was just stating a fact or if he felt we were prying into his private affairs, a look shared with Jasper telling me he was thinking the same thing. "I-If it's not convenient we could always come back," I stammered, the awkwardness returning at the thought that maybe Carlisle, in spite of his well-mannered and very generous offer, was wishing us away. "I mean…" I nervously licked my lips, my hands clenching into fists in an attempt to muster up some fake courage as I searched for the right words, "we would definitely understand if you wanted to go through your grandmother's belongings without us breathing down your neck."

"Not at all," Carlisle waved my fears away, rising as he motioned towards a door to the side of the room. "Please, I didn't mean to critique the two of you or the work you do with my remark. I'm sorry if it was perceived that way." He went ahead, talking as we climbed yet another ornate piece of late-nineteenth century woodcarving, the steps once again covered in a thick Persian rug that muffled our progress and almost swallowed my feet as I carefully climbed up. "If I were in your shoes I would be terribly excited as well. It must be something like a treasure hunt, is it not?"

Jasper nodded. "In a way it is, though we're not really after the money behind all of this. All that matters to us is the history," he said, and I couldn't agree more with him. History was riddled with people who didn't care if they destroyed priceless artifacts or ruined future generations' chances of enjoying things they'd come to take for granted just to make a few quick bucks. As a historian it made me so angry to see things destroyed that had withstood God only knew how many ages of this world or see the treasures of history passed into the hands of those who wished to use them only for bragging potential and kept them locked away from so many others who could learn from them.

"Then I know my grandmother's legacy is in safe hands," Carlisle spoke, pausing in front of a simple wooden door; the most basic we'd seen so far in this otherwise so dauntingly magnificent house. "You know, I just remember my father once telling me his mother used to be somewhat of a groupie in her day." He chuckled, coloring slightly under his otherwise so smoothly retained control. "At least as far as you can use that phrase for the better-off ladies of the age."

"I think groupie-dom goes back even as far as ancient Rome," Jasper grinningly chimed in. "I seem to remember my Ancient History professor telling me something about writings scribbled on the amphitheater in Rome by the young ladies of that town pertaining to certain gladiators and their remarkable traits."

I blushed, knowing just what scribblings he had meant. It wasn't like they were blatantly sexual or anything but they definitely suggested that gladiators sometimes did other things than fight or train during their free time.

"According to my father, the family was quite scandalized when they learned of her behavior and forced her to give up her acquaintance with some of the artists she'd befriended lest she'd risk her engagement to Blake."

"And she did?" I wanted to know, my thoughts wandering to a certain other member of the family known for being quite scandalous.

"Well," Carlisle spoke, opening the door to that musty smell of past lives lying dormant that I'd grown to love so much, "if that letter you showed me is what you believe it to be, then apparently she didn't."

Mounting the stairs we found ourselves surrounded by the usual scene when invading someone's attic space; boxes and old furniture placed haphazardly throughout the badly lit space. The big difference here was, though, that a single piece of discarded furniture in here was easily worth more than everything I owned put together and the boxes probably hid more treasure than your average pirate ship.

"I believe it's over here," Carlisle mused, carefully navigating the attic space as he made for a huge leather steamer trunk towards the back of the room; the slightly dented exterior betraying a life of heavy use. "I think…" His fingers moved over the lock before easily flipping back the latch, his excitement mirroring ours as we all crouched down around the trunk as Carlisle carefully lifted the lid.

"This was hers," he nodded, his finger running under the name written into the lid in an elegant script that looked similar to the handwriting in the letter. Or it may have just been what I wanted to see.

I held my breath as he rifled through the contents, getting a little disappointed when all that seemed to be in the trunk were clothes and a beautiful, handmade quilt which would have normally taken my breath away but now only produced a sad smirk. It wasn't what I hoped for…not something that could definitely link Lady Amelia to the letter and to Johannes. Until…

"Bingo!" Carlisle called out triumphantly, my heart skipping a beat as his hand clenched around a yet to be determined something at the bottom of the trunk, a leather covering of a bound journal slowly slipping into view as he carefully extracted it from the trunk.

"It is _hers_?" Jasper gasped, licking his lips as he nervously brushed his long, pitch-black hair behind his ears.

My hands were itching to just reach out and grab the damn thing as Carlisle slowly opened the cover, blowing away dust as his eyes drank in the words I was so anxious to see. "Yes," he finally stated, holding out the journal for me to take, "I do believe it is."

My hand trembled as I took it from him my heart racing in my chest as I pushed against the resistance of the leather that had covered Lady Amelia's words for almost a century, my eyes immediately falling on an elegant and very feminine script.

A script I'd come to know maybe even better than my own handwriting.

* * *

_**Thoughts?**_


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

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**Diary: **_**noun, plural **_**di·a·ries. 1. **a daily record, usually private, especially of the writer's own experiences, observations, feelings, attitudes, etc. **2. **a book for keeping such a record. **3. **a book or pad containing pages marked and arranged in calendar order, in which to note appointments and the like. _**Origin: **_1575–85; Latin _diārium _daily allowance, journal, equivalent to _di _( _ēs _) day + _-ārium _-ary

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**Diary, Pt. 1**

_Southampton,_

_The seventh of May, 1915_

_Dear diary,_

_We have finally said our goodbyes to England today. It is with a very heavy heart that I write these words because it has never been my intention to leave my home, even though I must confess that the unknown country one hears so much about these days quite excites me. I wonder if people in America are really as savage as my uncle claims them to be, though I must admit that I always had my doubts since my brother never seems to complain about their lack of decorum. Perhaps it is just that they have different ways than ours that makes them appear strange in our eyes but mostly to my uncle, who seems so set in what he perceives to be the only 'right' way to go about ones lives. _

_Mama cried all throughout the final leg of our journey to the port which I found rather odd, since it was she who seems to be in such a rush to leave Cullen house and all our familiar surroundings. Daisy suggested that it may have been the uncertainties of the endeavor we are embarking upon that made her appear so out of sorts, but I wonder if maybe she is starting to regret this move as much as I already do. _

_I believe we are both suffering under the duress of this whole situation. For Mama, it cannot be easy to know that our future rests upon one man's approval but, for me, the prospect of what is to happen upon our arrival in New York scares me to death. As much as I have always been aware of the fact that romantic feelings would not be the first consideration when it came to choosing my husband, now that I am close to being engaged I find that sometimes I long for those romantic feelings. At least I have the consolation that the man my brother chose for me is only ten years my senior and looks agreeable enough, though perhaps a little cold in his demeanor. It makes me wish this voyage would be over tomorrow so that I could finally see him and prepare for the rest of my life because being here, literally floating between the old and the new, is such a bitter torment. _

_I will go to bed now. It will only be four more days until we reach our destination when I wake up next morning. _

_Amelia _

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_North Atlantic Ocean, _

_The eight of May, 1915_

_Dear diary,_

_The most extraordinary thing happened to me today. Mama was still out of spirits this morning and between her complaining and my own confinement to our cabin, I was afraid of going out of my wits before lunch would be served. Fortunately Daisy, as always, managed to keep her wits firmly about herself and managed to convince Mama to allow the two of us to take a turn around deck while she rested. I swear I do not know how she managed but, much to our surprise, my mama consented and so ten minutes later found us holding on to our hats for dear life as we braved the fresh air and the people gallivanting around the promenade. I must confess I felt rather awkward under all of their stares. It made me realize how very sheltered my upbringing at Cullen House has been and how little my family went into society, even after I'd had my coming out. _

_We were on our second turn around the promenade deck, trying to dodge as many people as possible to avoid the tedious small talk and covert prying into my uncle's affairs when we happened upon a strange man, standing by the railing. At first I didn't think much of him, other than that his somewhat bedraggled appearance seemed to be whole out of place on a promenade deck reserved for first and second class passengers. Then I started to notice something else about him that was altogether quite remarkable: he was playing the railing as if it were a piano! Have you ever heard of such a thing? I swear I didn't know where to look!_

_Daisy tried to pull me away, of course, anxious as she was not to expose me to possible harm but there was something about the man that had me quite fascinated and I found I could not get myself to pull away from him in spite of her complaints. I don't know what it was but I just had to look. It was like something compelled me to stare at this strange man, playing an iron bar on the edge of the ocean like it was a beautiful instrument and he was a true artist, sitting in front of a sold out concert hall. Looking at him and the passion with which he played his soundless instrument, it was almost like I could feel the music rolling from the tips of his fingers. I must be going insane. Perhaps it was the salty vapors of the sea breeze going to my head. _

_And then he turned around and I swear, dear diary, that I have never seen such a man. His eyes! They were so green but, most of all, so alive and filled with an intense passion that I felt I was going to faint just from one look of it. It was just too much. Of course after a few minutes I realized that a man had just caught me staring at him like he was some prize at a country fair and I could not be more mortified. Instead of being insulted like any man of my acquaintance would, he seemed to be rather pleased to have caught me staring, his voice thick with an accent I could not make out when he asked me if I'd enjoyed the music. I stammered a silly reply I cannot remember, all the while wishing I had Daisy's spark or at the very least my mama's sharp tongue to aide me in situations like these, when all I wanted was to be witty and engaging. _

_By then, Daisy had resorted to forcefully pulling me away and I am quite convinced that had it not been for me finally relenting and surrendering to her hold, she would have prevailed upon some of the other passengers to pull me away. I have not been able to expel the man from my thoughts ever since. It is maddening! Like he somehow infected my mind through his imaginary play! I am quite convinced he will be in my dreams tonight as well, since he appears to have invaded every other aspect of my being. Still, it appears my eyes do not wish to remain open so I will say goodbye for now._

_I will keep you posted, _

_Amelia _

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_North Atlantic Ocean, _

_The ninth of May, 1915_

_Dear diary,_

_He was back today, and would you ever guess? We talked! I never thought such a thing would be imaginable. _

_Daisy and I were enjoying our walk (we didn't even have to persuade Mama today, she just let us leave without a second thought) when he hopped over the railing separating the Promenade Deck from the recreational facilities offered to third class passengers. He must have thought nobody was around because when he saw us standing there, he looked most put out to have been discovered. And he wasn't the only one in shock, I do declare!_

_When Daisy recovered herself she called him out on his trespassing and obvious disregard for the boundaries imposed on us all, but all he did in reply was smirk at us and remark upon the crowdedness of the third class decks and how they didn't offer any possibility of 'playing' or enjoying the view. I do not know, dear diary, what left me more surprised: his reply or the fact that Daisy's demeanor changed significantly after that. Somehow, whilst I had become more and more aware of the fact that this man was clearly mad and quite possibly dangerous, she had decided the complete opposite. Would you believe that?_

_On further acquaintance, though, I had to admit she was right. After the man had introduced himself as Johannes van Leyden, a pianist and music composer from the Netherlands, traveling to New York on invitation from some wealthy family, he went on to explain how he'd taken to slipping into the First Class recreational facilities by day to enjoy some quiet time to think and compose. Apparently he was working on some sort of operatic piece dedicated to his potential Maecenas. I made note to remember his name for further reference. One never knows... _

_Like yesterday, though, my own composure left much to be desired and I am ashamed to admit that I've been caught staring yet again, though Mister van Leyden didn't really seem to mind. There is something about this man, something I just can't seem to shake and that keeps drawing me to him in a strange and almost unhealthy way. His eyes, today, had lost none of the fire I noticed yesterday and I have to admit it made me quite envious to behold. For all my life I have been trained to subdue and mold myself to the perfectly poised image society has of us women. Oh, how it must be to just run wild and free!_

_Again, I found myself thinking about him long after we'd said our goodbyes for today. His smile when he told us he looked forward to seeing us tomorrow (just like that! As if his trespassing was the most normal thing in the world!) has made me feel a little strange inside and I wondered…No, it is best not to voice these thoughts, not even when I am sure no other living soul but myself will ever be privy to them. I do hope we will meet again tomorrow, though. _

_Amelia _

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_North Atlantic Ocean, _

_The tenth of May, 1915_

_Dear diary,_

_I can scarcely write from sheer exhaustion. What a day this has been!_

_Mama's sickness still persisted today and I believe she has given up hope of ever enjoying the journey to the other side of the world. Of course I have come to see the fortunate effects of her indisposition since it allowed me to meet with Johannes today, like has almost become habitual if such a thing can be said for a habit that has lasted a mere three days. _

_Unlike before, Daisy was distracted by one of the other ladies maids about on deck and for that I was blissfully thankful since it allowed me to get to know the man behind the strange behavior I had witnessed before. And what a man he is! He told me about his childhood in Leiden, which I believe to be a small town in the western parts of the Netherlands and how his family ousted him from their midst when he forsook his place in the family business for the uncertain future of a musician and composer. It was like I was there with him as he described his travels to Paris, Rome, and then finally London. He expressed his hope that his new Maecenas would be able to provide him with a more steady income than what he had been living off to this day. _

_I was beginning to feel quite pedestrian amidst these tales of Bohemian adventures when the time came for me to return his candor and tell him about my very boring and sheltered life. But if he thought the life of an impoverished English noble family in Scotland was boring, he didn't let on. In fact, when it came to my reasons for crossing this seemingly never-ending ocean, he became quite outraged. I have to admit it shocked me, seeing him pace in front of me with a barely veiled rage. I have been around people all my life, who take such pride in hiding their true emotions that it seemed almost savage to me. It was exciting and it made me feel more alive and appreciated than I believe I have ever felt in my life. _

_His anger also left me confused, though, and I spent almost all of what remained of the day pondering his words and trying to find out how they made me feel. I know what I must do and I will do my duty for my family, but being with Johannes makes me feel that there is so much more out there in the world that I have yet to experience. I realize now how much I long for that…for the unknown. _

_Unfortunately, Mama felt well enough to accept an invitation to dinner from the captain so instead of being alone with my thoughts, Daisy had to force me into yet another beautiful but horridly uncomfortable dress as I sat through ten courses of fine food and idle conversation._

_At least I am back in my room now, with nothing but my own silly dreams to keep me company until I fall asleep. I will see him again tomorrow, I hope. _

_Amelia _

* * *

_North Atlantic Ocean, _

_The eleventh of May, 1915_

_You would not believe what happened today! I swear even now, hours after it happened even I can scarcely believe it myself. And of course, as you may have already guessed, it has something to do with Johannes. _

_After yesterday's conversation you can imagine I was quite anxious to meet him with again today. That strange feeling that takes hold of me every time I as much as sense he is near now taking up permanent residence in the pit of my stomach. He is just so different from all of the men I've become acquainted over the years. Perhaps it is because he is Dutch, or maybe because he is poor, but there is a strange sort of current running through him that makes me hang on to his every word and gesture when he is near me. I already find myself longing for him when he is away. How could I feel like this for someone I barely even know? Someone who will most likely vanish from my life when we make port tomorrow? How will I be able to bear it? _

_As has become our habit, we met on the Promenade Deck today where I could just see him crossing the border that separates his life from mine as we entered the main walkway. Daisy once again struck up a conversation with one of the other ladies maids chaperoning her ward around the Promenade Deck, though this time, I had a feeling that it wasn't so much a genuine interest into the life of other domestics as her way of allowing me my privacy to say goodbye to Johannes. Oh Daisy, how I love you sometimes!_

_Johannes decided to forego his musical session today in order to have more time for us to say our goodbyes; which I thought was rather odd, but I didn't say anything about it. After all, we have become friends over the past couple of days, and is it not more common for friends to converse than for one friend to stand by gawping at the other while he played an imaginary piano? If asked, I believe Mama would claim that a friendship between a man and an unmarried young woman would never be frowned upon 'as is' but at least we weren't acting in a way that might raise even more questions. At least, not yet. _

_I am almost scared to write these words, dear diary. My heart is pounding in my chest at the fear of someone ever reading these words. It would be my undoing if such a thing ever happened! And yet, I find myself unable to keep these words confined to the privacy of my own mind, lest they burst from my lips as they have threatened to do ever since it happened. I have not even dared to tell Daisy, for fear of her judgment…or worse. So I have to tell you, knowing that unless something horrible comes to pass, you will at least keep my secret._

_He kissed me! There, I have said it. He kissed me, and I could never have been happier to be kissed. _

_It all started when he pulled me aside after we'd taken a few turns around the Promenade Deck, my shock at suddenly being confined in close quarters with a man only heightening when he made use of our newfound privacy to profess his worries over my impending nuptials to a man I had yet to meet. Oh, diary, you should have heard the passion in his voice when he told me that marriage and love were not supposed to be forced like that. I thought I would faint from the sheer force of his argument! He told me a girl like me deserved to be kissed by someone who truly adores her instead of a man who only thinks about the status and connections her name will bring to him. _

_My heart broke, when he spoke to me like that, because I realized he was right. It was the sense of entrapment I have been feeling in my heart ever since the name Henry Blake was first uttered from my mama's lips. I do not love him. I do not even know him. And yet we are to be wed, if I'm agreeable enough to him, almost as soon as it can be arranged. I know I will be doing my duty to my family and I feel a keen satisfaction in knowing Mama and my uncle will be saved from financial ruin, and all the calamity that accompanies it, but what about me?_

_And then he made it so much worse when he kissed me and, dear diary, it was everything I could ever have dreamed of feeling in my first kiss and so much more. I knew I should have slapped him or called upon some good soul to come to my aid and defend my virtue, but I must confess that most rational thought had long forsaken me. What remained was leaving my mind when he told me he had been thinking about kissing me ever since he first met but that he made up his mind last night, after I'd told him._

_How will I ever be able to rally from this when all can think about is Johannes? By this time tomorrow I will have lost him for good. But what can I do? I am trapped in this life as much as he is in his but as long as he is near me, I will take whatever little happiness I can get before the walls of this new prison I am traveling towards swallows me whole. At least nobody will ever be able to take this away from me. _

_Amelia _

* * *

_New York,_

_The twelfth of May, 1915_

_Dear diary, _

_Johannes is gone now. If my current state of mind had not been so forlorn, I might have remarked on the strangeness of human attachment and how it takes next to no time at all to form a connection with a person who, up until a few days ago, was nothing but a total stranger._

_We met this morning to say our goodbyes. I stayed awake most of last night thinking about our kiss. Even when I close my eyes at this very moment, I can still feel his lips against mine and taste him on my lips, though I know that he is miles away and we may never meet again in this life. I had hoped for a repeat performance of the intimacy we shared yesterday but I think Daisy may have suspected something. Even if she hadn't, my mama was feeling so much better today at the prospect of being reunited with her son today that she barely left us alone for long enough to even rush to the Promenade Deck for a few minutes to say our farewells. _

_It was of no consolation to me that Johannes looked as heartbroken as I did. In fact, it broke my heart even further to see the longing in his look, knowing I could make no promises to him and am even now practically engaged to another man. Oh, if only there was never such a thing as money in this world! We could be united then, without the lines of class and power dividing us and no one would waste a second thought on our union. Will there ever be a time when women from all walks of life will be able to give their hearts freely in love? I do hope so, even though my poor heart fails to believe it. It is such an unfair plight that binds us women to the wills of men! Now I have nothing but the hope that I will see him again somehow, as unlikely as that appears to be without the freedom to go as I please, or even as much as an address to write to. _

_It was too soon before Daisy started to pull me away from him again. She looked quite nervous as her eyes searched for people whose words might get back to Mama or my brother. I so wish we had more time! There were so many things I still wished to say to him; so many things I had yet to ask, but it was not to be. We had to rejoin our party and he hopped back over the railing to his own accommodations in steerage to complete his own journey to the United States. And that was it. He was gone._

_Mama complained as we had to wait to be admitted onto American soil. I think it was more for appearances sake than anything else since she appeared quite happy to enter into this new life in the country some call 'the land of opportunity'. I was glad to have her in good spirits since her preoccupation with the world around us meant that her eyes rarely strayed to me. _

_My brother was already waiting for us when we finally made it off the ship, and his men made quick work of our luggage. I could not believe my eyes when I first saw him! He is so different than when I last looked upon him! It is obvious that his new life agrees with him and that his wife takes excellent care of his needs, though she seemed not altogether that happy to have us under her roof. _

_I must go down now to partake in the late supper my dear sister in law has prepared for us, though I would rather rest in my bed all night and think about Johannes. What is he doing right now? Has he already left that dreadful place they brought him to? One hears such horrid stories about Ellis Island and the procedures and questions put upon people there. I fear I have been a very poor guest until now, though if my brother has noticed my poor mood, he has not remarked upon it. I will try to be better. I know I must put these silly notions out of my head lest they will be my undoing and, through me, that of my whole family. I __must__ be better. _

_Mama is calling. Tomorrow, dear diary, you will find me in better spirits. I will be Amelia again. _

_I promise. _

* * *

_**Thoughts? **_


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

* * *

**Persuasion: **_**noun **_**1. **the act of persuading or seeking to persuade. **2. **the power of persuading; persuasive force. **3. **the state or fact of being persuaded or convinced. **4. **a deep conviction or belief. **5. **a form or system of belief, especially religious belief: _the Quaker persuasion. _

* * *

**Persuasion**

I sighed as I heard the door click into the lock behind me and rubbed my face with the palms of my hand. My eyes were strangely drawn to the baby grand piano, tucked into a corner in Tanya's living room; for the first time in God knew how fucking long I felt music forming inside my mind. My fingers itched to touch the smooth, cold ivory as the melody started to take shape; the notes unfolding inside my head like an intricate puzzle. There was no stopping it, even if I'd wanted to; the monster of creation was taking a hold of me like some kind of magical spell slowly possessed all of my senses.

I smiled. _Bella_.

The song was Bella; the soft notes and easy, sweet natured timbre taking you on a mellow wave that swept you away on a bed of warm, vibrant colors. But there was sharpness in it as well; the vibrato of tension in the background. Always there, but sometimes you could barely feel it creeping into the melody…until it jumped out and hit you in the face.

It was her to a 't'. In the deep, rich notes of her big brown eyes to the softness of her really fucking flawless skin, and the sweetness about her that seemed almost unreal. I mean, where in this godforsaken city would a fucker like me find someone who as so pure and naïve?

Being around her was like living inside a dream; the kind of peacefulness that made me really fucking cranky when I woke up because I just didn't want to face the clusterfuck that was my reality. It made me feel so fucking protective of her, wishing more than anything that she would always stay the same sweet girl she was and not become tainted by the fucked up depravity of the world around her. Even if that meant taking my own depraved fucking ass as far away from her as I could get it.

Oh, and I really wanted to beat the shit out of that fucker who hurt her.

Unbeknown even to myself, I'd wandered over to the instrument, the faint, muffled notes drifting into the still air surrounding me as the tips of my fingers brushed the pristine white keys. My skin relished the feeling of the smooth, glossy surface, the waves between each individual key felt like a quiet 'welcome home' deep within my darkened soul.

But was it?

Sure, I'd gone to that damned meeting at Julliard and they'd been really fucking psyched about having me back there and all that shit, but was it still what I wanted? All my life, music had been a means to an end; a way to make my mom happy and forget how much of an asshole dad could be sometimes. I got my dad's attention when he was holed up in his study caring for other people instead of spending some time with me. Music had always had a purpose for me, even now since the lessons I taught at the community center were my only way of contributing to Tanya's living expenses.

But was it really what I wanted? Did I really _want_ to become a composer? I'd always had this big childlike dream of someday standing in the wings of some symphony or opera house, listening as the orchestra played my notes but did I really want that?

_Yes_, my fingers almost immediately responded; the stiffness in my muscles as they immitated the opening notes of Beethoven's Piano Sonata No 23. My blood came alive after being dormant for so long. In my haste to give into some sort of weird fucking primal urge to play, I almost knocked over the stool, the wood and leather still bouncing as I parked my ass on the piano bench and played.

_God, it feels so fucking good!_

For a moment I was able to forget about the world around me and the fucked up mess my life had become and just live inside the music. I felt the passion of the _Appassionata_ pulse through my being before it exited through my fingers; the stiffness of the first couple of notes flowing away as they, like me, remembered how it used to be.

It must have been close to half an hour when the final note faded into silence but it felt like only a minute had passed. It was that familiar feeling of being so caught up into something that everything else just didn't matter. I loved it. I _had_ missed it.

"That was…"

A few dissonant tones made me cringe as I turned around in shock to see Tanya standing in the doorway. "Fuck, T! Will you stop creeping up on me? When did you get home?"

"One: I didn't creep up on you," she warned, though the really fucking happy smile was still there. "And two: you know as well as I do that when you play, someone could fire a cannon right next to your head and you wouldn't even notice."

"True," I acknowledged, feeling nervous all of a sudden as I realized she'd heard me play. "So?"

"You've still got it, Edward," she whispered, her feet almost inaudible on the carpet as she crossed the room to sit right next to me on the narrow bench. "That sounded…Sure it was a little rough around the edges and your fingers need some serious play time before they'll be back to their old strength, but _that_–it sounded like the old you; when you could still make people feel every single note of the music in their hearts. A talent like yours…just don't let it go to waste. Please?"

I nodded, something still keeping me from saying the words out loud. "How did rehearsals go?"

"Great!" Tanya answered, her head leaning against my shoulder as my fingers started to play _pianissimo_ scales, unable to give up on playing so quickly. "Sofia, the woman singing the part of Aida, is a prime bitch, though, but then again, what _diva_ isn't?"

I chuckled. "There's no room for two divas on one production. You should know that by now."

"I'm not a fucking diva, Edward," she spat, my skin feeling the fire of her ire even if the rest of her stayed calm. "I just want her to recognize me for who I am: a singer, just like her—and a fucking good one at that. But instead she treats me like I'm some sort of stagehand or minion to her superior wiles."

"You just started out, T," I tried to reason, "whereas she's a recognized star who's played the likes of Covent Garden and the Scala. You can't expect people to treat you with the same sort of respect you got back at Julliard when they don't know the potential you can rise to." I silenced her before she could speak, sensing from her body language that she was itching to jump in there. "Just give them a month or so to size you up and find out how you fit inside this business and work from there."

I could see her lips pull into a 'spoiled girl' grimace, her unwillingness to accept a spot somewhere a lot further down the ladder than the one she was used to made me chuckle. "You have to start out small if you want to make it big, Tanya."

"I'm from Texas," she grumped. "I don't like small."

I rose, kissing the top of her head before stretching my stiff frame. "You'd better hold on tight then, rich girl, because you're in for a whole world of hurt."

From the corners of my eyes I could see her sticking her tongue out at me as I crossed the apartment towards my room; my body already heavy with exhaustion before I managed to find my way to bed. I was out like a light the second my head hit the pillow, the strain of everything going on had me out like a light until I was rudely awoken by Tanya, announcing I had a call. "It's your dad," she whispered, her face unreadable.

Now_ what does the fucker want? _

"Yes?" I barked, taking the phone from Tanya's hand as I sat up, my free hand scratching through the scraggly mess of hair at the back of my head.

"Edward?" Dad's voice sounded almost afraid, which was definitely a new thing. I had to take a few fucking seconds to get my mind around hearing him like that and deciding how the fuck I felt about it. Confused was the first thing that sprang to mind—hurt and anger close on its heels like they always were. Meanwhile he prattled on nervously, his voice taking on more certainty the more he spoke. "I was told you came to visit me at work the other day and…and I'm sorry I couldn't be there, son."

"Yeah, well isn't that the story of my fucking life!' I snorted bitterly, remembering all of the other fucking times he had chosen his patients over me. "What do you want?"

The sigh I could hear on the other end of the line was filled with regret and I half expected him to launch off into some sob-story about how he wanted a second chance or something. He didn't though, and deep down I was kind of disappointed, even though I knew it made no fucking sense. "I wanted to know how you were doing and if you needed anything... you know? Jay told me he's been working on getting the DA's office to accept your side of the story but they're not really accepting it yet."

_Fuck!_ If his words hadn't made my throat go dry—I would probably have been pissed off finding out Jenks was in cahoots with my fucking dad. "Yeah, I'll be over to meet with him later in the week and…you know…strategize and shit."

"That's good," he replied cautiously. "You know…there was this girl over today, asking questions about your great-grandmother and I couldn't help but think…" It was like he was going to say something else before he finished, "I couldn't help but think about you and how you're doing."

I chuckled incredulously. "A girl in your house made you think about me?" _Is he finished with his usual whore and started trolling his interns for new fuck buddies or something? _

"Not like that!" Dad defended himself, though I could hear the slightly panicky undertone in his words. _Good, earn the right to fucking talk to me, motherfucker. And be on your fucking guard while you're at it_. "She was here to investigate a possible friendship between Amelia and Johannes van Leyden, which made me think about how your mother used to listen to his works…"

If he said anything else, my mind didn't pick up on it in its newfound state of blind fucking panic. The idea that Bella had been in my house, talking to my dad… "W-what was her name?" I croaked, pulling at the collar of my shirt to get some fresh air because I felt like I was fucking chocking all of a sudden. "The girl…I mean."

"Bella." _Shit_. I closed my eyes, stifling a curse as I realized that probably meant that Bella knew I hadn't been entirely fucking honest with her. At least, if he had kept all of the pictures and stuff in the same place after I'd stormed out.

"I have to go." I didn't wait for him to comment on my sudden decision; the call already ended and the phone stashed deep inside the pocket of my pants before he probably even heard my words. I was on my way five seconds later, dodging a surprised looking Tanya as I hightailed it out of the apartment and down to the nearest subway station that would take me to Norwood.

To Bella.

I needed to explain why I'd given her another name…why I never told her about my family, even though I had the feeling that bitch Hale might have clued her in on some of it. I also had the feeling that if I called her all I would get was a fucking voicemail.

I made good use of Angela to bluff my way inside as I hoped she and Bella weren't close enough yet to share the ins and outs of their love lives. It turned out they hadn't since Angela merely prattled on about her class and how much the old folks in the Dutch class were missing Bella ever since my girl had taken over that one class about two weeks ago. I was pretty sure that if they had, I wouldn't be walking around so easily considering Angela took lessons in Hale's self-defense class every Thursday. I may not have known Angela too well but I was pretty fucking certain she wouldn't hesitate to put what she'd learned into practice the minute she found out I'd hurt her friend.

My balls and I were really fucking grateful when I reached the floor I knew Bella inhabited; my shoulders relaxed when I noticed the door to the Blacks' apartment was firmly shut as I crept through the corridor. I didn't want to do anything to disturb that fucker and risk another run-in with the police.

Reaching Bella's door I knocked, waiting until I realized she wasn't coming before I knocked again. "Bella? It's me."

Nothing.

I knocked again, my breath hitched when I thought I heard something; the padding of soft footsteps coming nearer. But it may have just been wishful fucking thinking.

I sighed, leaning my head against the door. "Please open the door? I know you know and…and I want to explain."

I wasn't sure if she could hear me but I wasn't about to give up either. I knew that if I walked away the chances were I wasn't going to see her again. _Ever. _I knew enough about how skittish she was to know how hard it would be to earn her trust and I might have blown all of that just now. I just needed to explain to her…_fuck_. "Bella?" My voice almost fucking broke from the helplessness I felt, cursing my dad for simply being the fucker he was and myself for letting it all come to this.

But then there was reprieve; the soft click of a key turning inside a lock before the door gave way to reveal an equal parts scared and pissed off looking Bella.

Brown Eyes.

"Thank you," I whispered, standing stock still until she finally stepped aside and motioned for me to enter, her posture rigid and her eyes betraying her nervousness as she made sure to give me a wide berth.

_Back to square one again_, I thought smiling sadly as I gingerly sat down on her sofa, looking around the place. This was Bella—from the books covering basically every flat surface to the warm, rich colors and green plants sitting in on the sills of the huge windows. It was the kind of place I never had growing up, or even now. I was used to big spaces filled with expensive antiques or more modern designer stuff, not a home that welcomed you like a warm embrace.

"My friend Mike picked out the colors," her shaky voice explained as my eyes landed on the 'Arabian nights' style pillows and other crap lying on her sofa and bed. "He's a design student and did this room for a school project."

The tension and, to be honest, fucking rage that had started to build when she mentioned the name of this Mike person evaporated as soon as she explained what he was studying. Not that I was an expert or anything but when a guy chose to study interior decorating, chances were big he wasn't fishing in the same fucking pond as I was. "It looks good," I answered, nodding as I cast another glace around the place.

"It probably looks like a dump considering what you grew up around," she muttered, picking at the sleeve of her hoodie like she most wanted to disappear inside of it.

I caught the reproach just like she probably wanted me to; the politeness of her anger making me smile even though I knew it probably wasn't helping. "Don't," I insisted, letting out a huge breath as I dove in, knowing my only shot with her would be telling the truth. _The whole truth._ "I may have grown up in a fucking palace but that doesn't mean I've lived a rich life. In fact, it was kinda the fucking opposite, with my dad never being home and my mom being miserable all the time."

She nodded; her eyes deep with understanding though the fear still lingered in the background. God, I really hated that distress for what it turned her into! "For as long as I can remember, my parents had a lousy marriage, though I guess they hardly spent enough time together to ever fucking argue or anything." I snorted bitterly, remembering the awkward silences and my mother's silent tears. "It was always just my mom and I when I grew up. Dad's role in our lives was limited to providing a roof over our heads and the food in our bellies. As for other stuff like affection and being a role model and shit…he always made it damn clear that his patients were far more fucking important than us...that he could only fit us in when nobody else needed him."

My lips pressed into a hard line when I remembered all the piano recitals where I came out of the wings looking for him, only to be disappointed all over again to find mom, alone and with a sad smile on her lips. "It's not like we needed the asshole anyway," I huffed, shrugging my shoulders as I looked away from Bella's understanding, compassionate eyes and knew that looking in them would turn me into a crying fucking pussy. "Mom and I made our own fucking life, and even though I would never stop looking for Dad or hoping…we were happy until…" I sighed; inwardly hearing Mom's anguished screams all over again. "Until she found out he'd been boning some whore all along. She was furious, drinking herself into a stupor before tearing out in search of him. I tried to stop her but…"

The breath I took was shaky as I pressed my nails into the palms of my hands until I was pretty sure I'd drawn blood. "She died that night, the frame of her car so fucking mangled that it took the firemen almost an hour to pry her body away from it, and where was Dad? Balls fucking deep in his whore!"

She cringed, absorbing my words but if she was disgusted by them, she didn't let on as her own eyes filled with tears as she fought an internal struggle. "I left home a couple of days later. I felt so sick to my stomach about what he'd done that I didn't want to have anything more to do with that asshole. I didn't want his money, his company _or_ his fucking name."

"So Masen is…" Bella started as her voice sounded hesitant and scared of the reaction she would get.

"Mom's maiden name," I explained, finally in control enough to look at her, finding everything I wanted, needed and feared in her face. "I know I should have told you but…it's hard and shit and…_fuck_!" My hands lodged in my hair as I looked at her, hoping she'd understand my really fucking unintelligible explanation and pick up the apology that must be hidden in there somewhere.

She reached for me. "Oh, Edward," she sighed, holding my hands. "It must have been so hard for you…and these past few years…"

I shrugged, feeling really fucking awkward all of a sudden. "It didn't help that I was an annoying little son of a bitch before that but…yeah."

"I wish you would have told me, though," she went on, driving the stake even further into my fucking heart. "Seeing that picture of you hanging on his wall…"

"I'm sorry about that," I interrupted her before she could really go in for the kill. "I know what it must have looked like to you and I know I should have told you, but I just couldn't get the words out yet, if you know what I mean." I grimaced, still unsure as hell and feeling weird as fuck. "For what it's worth…I would have told you in time, I think."

She nodded, accepting my explanation. "It's okay, Edward. It was a shock but knowing what I know now…I understand why you didn't tell me," she muttered after a couple of seconds had passed. "It would be a bit hypocritical of me if I held this against you when you and I both know I'm still holding back as well." She sighed. "Still…I think I'm going to need some time to wrap my head around the fact that you're involved in all of this." She waved her hands around her as if to indicate some bigger space than the little studio apartment we were in. "It's all so surreal."

"So the old man managed to help you out?" I asked, remembering she'd told me about her visit with a doctor who might help her out with a lead on the van Leyden legacy. Little did I know when she told me, she was actually talking about my dad…my family.

Just like I knew, my mentioning van Leyden managed to take her mind off the fact that she was pissed off at me and in need of some distance–whatever the fuck that might mean. She nodded, her eyes gained that passion which appeared every time she spoke about her work. "He gave me her diary to study and set me up with an aunt of his who supposedly knows a lot about your family history." She chuckled, blushing as she went on to explain her sudden good humor. "It's still so weird to know that you're actually related to Amelia Cullen. Who knows? You might be Johannes van Leyden's long lost heir!"

"Don't count on it!" I snorted. "From what I know my family is really fucking straight laced; English nobility and all that fucking shit. They never put a foot wrong out, let alone allow one of their own to go gallivanting off with some musician!" It was only then that I remembered what she'd said about him setting her up with one of my other weird fucking relatives. "Wait a minute…he isn't setting you up with a broad called Lauren Cullen, is he?"

"Yes," she frowned, looking at me like I was all and shit. "I think that was the name he gave me."

I shook my head. "I can't believe he's siccing crazy Aunt Laurie on you without a warning!" I growled, watching as Bella's eyes grew wide.

"Crazy Aunt Laurie?" she muttered.

"She's infamous in my family, and that's saying something since we're all a bunch of wackos," I snorted. "Must be some sort of English nobility inbreeding scheme or something that fucked with our heads. Still, Laurie–as harmless as she is…_I think_–is the weirdest in the bunch, even though my dad may be right about her knowing almost every sordid fucking secret there is to know about us."

"So you're saying I should meet with her?" Bella asked as her voice still wary as all fuck. "Or do you think I should wait?"

"Oh, I think you should meet with her and probably soon too, since the damn woman is about four hundred years old and could kick the bucket at any time," I shrugged.

"All I'm really saying to you is that when you do go, I'm coming with you."

* * *

_**Thoughts?**_


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

* * *

**Diary: **_**noun, plural **_**di·a·ries. 1. **a daily record, usually private, especially of the writer's own experiences, observations, feelings, attitudes, etc. **2. **a book for keeping such a record. **3. **a book or pad containing pages marked and arranged in calendar order, in which to note appointments and the like. _**Origin: **_1575–85; Latin _diārium _daily allowance, journal, equivalent to _di _( _ēs _) day + _-ārium _-ary

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**Diary, Pt. 2**

_East 64__th__ street New York City,_

_The ninth of February, 1916_

_Dear diary,_

_Life here at East 64__th__ street continues to go on as it ever did and I find myself getting increasingly bored with the endless parade of social engagements my brother and dear sister in law continue to arrange for us. I supposed it is how life is conducted here, in the hub of society life but over the past couple of weeks I have found myself longing for the quieter life of Cullen House more than once. _

_There must be something amiss with me. According to most everyone around me, I am supposed to be blossoming under the attention of so many and the excitement of city life. It is a virtue characteristic of the young, or so it is presented, to always be in need of diversion. Being young, however, I find myself more in need of quiet contemplation or even an hour or so of repose to read a book. To be under other people's scrutiny so much is starting to make me anxious and irritable, since wit their scrutiny also come their opinions and unwanted advices. It seems everyone is quite determined to lecture me on how to behave like a proper young lady should here!_

_I hate that my life has come to a complete and utter standstill ever since we have arrived. Far be it from me to resent my late father in law for dying at such an inopportune moment but in doing so, she prolonged the already endless uncertainty even longer, as the family will still be in mourning for some months and Henry needs time to fully immerse himself in the family business. At least he calls at the house whenever he is not traveling to assess the state of his family's affairs, though I must confess that his visits always leave me feeling ill at ease and slightly frightened for what my future may hold. _

_I know I am probably boring you with all of my childish doubts and fears but there is just something about that man that irks me and makes me wonder where he is truly the man who is going to make me happy, as mama continues to reassure me. All I know is that I find myself wholly unable to fall in love with him, especially now that I know how true loves feels._

_Oh, dear diary. If only I could just forget about Johannes and be happy! Why did I have to meet him in the first place and have the few, precious moments we spent together hang over my head like constant reminder of how I am never going to reclaim that feeling again? It is so unfair! He left me here, alone and with my heart broken just in time to give it to a man I fear I may never even like, let alone fall in love with. _

_I suppose I will just have to work harder on accepting my future and focusing on being a good society wife in this city. I will get there. I promise._

_Your Amelia. _

* * *

_East 64__th__ street New York City,_

_The twenty-sixth of February, 1916_

_Dear diary,_

_I have seen him again! I can scarce draw breath from excitement and I do not believe I need tell you why. I was so wholly unexpected and yet, deep down inside, I believe I always knew we would meet again. I could not be that fate would have thrown him in my path only to take him away again. But I am probably confusing you. Let me start by the beginning. _

_As I have told you before, my brother has a habit of making sure our social calendars are filled to the brim with engagements to people who might proof 'useful' to his business. Last night, I was carter off to the house of a man named Stanley, who is supposed to be this wealthy steal magnate and a well-known patron of the arts. It was that last thing that made the engagement remotely bearable, as I would have the possibility of listening in on some conversations that might interest me at the dinner table. Not that anyone would ever ask me for my opinion. As far as society is concerned, women are not supposed to have opinions, least of all when they are unmarried. _

_Dinner was a bore, as these events mostly are. The men talked of business, not pleasure and the women spoke as women mostly do: of the same mindless trivialities I'm forced to listen to day in day out. Oh, how I long for some silence every now and then!_

_But I digress. Sweet pleasure did come to me but only after the men had joined us again in the drawing room. It was then that Mister Stanley announced that he had arranged for some very special entertainment for his guests and lo and behold, who stepped in but the man how has been ever in my dreams? I swear I felt as if I were about to faint from shock and excitement combined!_

_My heart would have leapt from my chest if such a thing were possible when he stepped in. I know he did not instantly recognize me as I was sitting at a very disadvantageous angle form the piano but as he played, I could somehow feel his gaze on me, even if that blasted Crowley woman and her insufferably large head kept me from seeing his face as he played. _

_And, my dear diary, he played so well! Throughout these months I have always imagined what it would be like to really hear him play and see that passion that he holds in every fiber of his being come to life. Being there, in that room, it was almost too much. The man must be a wizard to be able to coax such music from an instrument others merely trifle with. It was as if he breathed a new life into tones that had died from overuse a long time ago and, much to my joy, his audience was ecstatic when his late note lingered in the air. I can only imagine who much success the city is going to bring him, if he managed to inspire such enthusiastic reactions from people who are normally so sedate. _

_Much to my disappointment, my brother announced our departure soon after and I was unable to speak to him before I was shepherded out of the door but I remain optimistic. After all, since he is now moving in the same circles as I am, even if just as a form of entertainment, I am positive that I will see him again and the one look we shared between us before I was whisked away will be enough to last me until the next time we meet. If we meet again. _

_Pray for me?_

_Your Amelia. _

* * *

_East 64__th__ street New York City,_

_The thirtieth of March, 1916_

_Dear diary,_

_I hate him! For a long time I have wondered if I could ever grow to love or even like Henry to the degree a wife is supposed to in regards to her husband but as of today I know that cannot ever be possible. Did you know he had to audacity to order me to stop trying to seek out Johannes? And then, as if that wasn't enough, he thought to lecture me on proper behavior for a woman engaged to be wed. As if I had ever done something untoward! As if it is a crime nowadays, to speak to an increasingly renown composer and congratulate him on his recent success. I wish he were back in mourning again, that vile man!_

_How could I ever get married to a man who doesn't even allow me to speak to people? I might as well have changed my religion and become a nun, since that's what he apparently expects of me. At least, if I did that, I would be free of his company, which would be nothing short of a blessing. _

_I was so close to speaking to him today. We found ourselves once again in the same room and this time I am absolutely positive that he recognized my face in the crowd of ladies ready to fawn over him after he'd graced us with his music. Stanley was displaying him like a proud peacock, acting like Johannes' achievements in music were somehow connected to him, as opposed to the Johannes' incomparable talent. He was even starting towards me and I could feel my heart staring to explode when suddenly I was all but yanked back by Henry who demanded to know why I was making eyes at a servant. A servant! Well, have I ever heard such a preposterous thing!_

_Johannes to that as his cue to invest his attention elsewhere, much to my dismay. Not that I would have been free to seek him out again, since after my unknown faux pas Henry seemed to think it his duty to keep to my side all night, forcing me to listen as he spoke to his dull business associates._

_I wish we had never come here. _

_You Amelia_

* * *

_East 64__th__ street New York City,_

_The first of May, 1916_

_Dear diary,_

_Success! Finally after weeks of trying in growing despair I managed to exchange a few words with Johannes today. I cannot tell you how good it was to talk to a man and not be afraid of what he is going to say in return. Oh, diary, I still love him as well today as I did the day we said our goodbyes. And yet we are both supposed to marry other people and go on with our lives as if such a thing as true love has never existed. How is this to be born? It __cannot__ be born!_

_I was so relieved when I finally got the chance to speak to him, even if his first words were not exactly those of an ardent lover. I knew them to be true, though, for when he told me that when he first set eyes on me, he found me so changed that he barely recognized me, I realized he was right. I had changed during the time we had been apart. And I would have been lying if I claimed it to be for the better. _

_Being here, in the land of opportunity, has been nothing but the end of all my hoped and dreams. When I boarded the ship that would take me across the ocean to a land I did not know, I was hoping that this new start would prove to be the making of me. As quiet and obscure as my years at Cullen House had been, I so desired this country to be everything the people at my uncle's dinner table had been talking about (though I doubt they had meant their comments about America to be interpreted as praise). I know now that my expectations might have been naïve, but was I so naïve to hope that I would find a kind man in the person I am supposed to marry? Is it really so strange of me to at least wish for my future husband to be someone I can respect?_

_It was all of this that Johannes could see in my face, I'm sure, for I've seen it in my own reflection when I look into the mirror. And what I see is making me increasingly desperate for I am so afraid that time will turn me into the kind of women mama and my aunt have become: women who have no hope and are kept afloat only by the comfort of knowing they have made the right marriage to sustain themselves in the luxuries they had been brought up in. _

_It seems that my dear friend is not without those same pressures himself, though. As Johannes and I spoke – for speaking was all we risked to do today – he mentioned how his benefactor has been pushing him to wed his youngest daughter, Jessica. Now I know the girl to be a sweet, good-natured kind of thing from my interactions with her over the past couple of weeks and I suppose I have to admit she is not completely unfortunate-looking but…I cannot stand the thought of anyone else marrying him. I know it's crazy and I find myself cursing my own stupidity for thinking thus but I curse that little hussy to the ends of the earth of it means keeping her away from him. _

_I so wish I could run away from this place and settle somewhere new; somewhere where expectations and duty know no place and there is only love to keep us afloat. Johannes hinted at having the same kind of thoughts, which made it all the more heartbreaking for me to let go of him and do the right thing. I know I have to. I know duty command it, even at the cost of my heart. My brother's firm is still too new to sustain itself and without the investments Henry has pledged to make as part of his wedding gift it cannot remain afloat and what is to happen to poor mama when we lose out final chance to remain solvable? I cannot condemn my family to a life filled with shame and poverty, not even at the cost of my own happiness. But I wish…_

_I shall leave you now to start another sleepless night. Pray for me, dear diary. Pray for my poor heart._

_Your Amelia. _

* * *

_East 64__th__ street New York City,_

_The sixteenth of June, 1916_

_Dear diary,_

_I've changed my mind. I know that only a couple of weeks ago I promised to do what was right for my family but I now know I cannot. As disappointed as I am with myself for being unable to secure the needs of my family, I find I have no other option. After a conversation I have had with my future husband this morning, I have become increasingly more aware that the question at play here isn't whether or not I am strong enough to sacrifice my own happiness for the survival of my family, it is about whether I will secure their prosperity in exchange for my own life. _

_After all, how else am I to interpret Henry's words when he has made it so inescapably clear to me that he will stop at nothing to turn me into an obedient little wifey as soon as we are wed? He even claimed, and I quote 'that he was going to enjoy breaking my obstinate spirit'. After what I have been told about his methods by various sources, I have no illusion about what this means. He may think that because he deems himself above the law, the stories of his depravity will be buried along with his bought off culpability but I know all about the man he killed with his own bare hands outside a house of ill-repute last week. And I know about the many others he hurt before that. _

_I can only wonder whether or not my brother knew about this before he brokered my engagement to this monster of a man. The more sentimental part of me thinks he cannot have been aware of that, for how could the same loving brother who helped me catch butterflies in my uncle's garden deliver me at the mercy of such a man? However, I find my brother very changed sometimes and I wonder whether the hardships of growing up with no estate and only debts to his name has not taken its toll on his once so sweet nature. _

_It doesn't matter now, though. I have already send word to Johannes to beg him to make good on the promise he made last May. I want to be away from here, even if it means I will have to dig out potatoes for the rest of my life and toil the fields just like the people I've grown up feeling so superior to. Poverty will be a small sacrifice to make for my own health and happiness. _

_My mind is made up. I can only pray now that the letter I have send to him through my trusted maid will reach him undetected. I have no doubt that things will go very poorly for me it if were. _

_Your Amelia. _

* * *

_**Thoughts?**_


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

* * *

**Persuasion: **_**noun **_**1. **liability or exposure to harm or injury; risk; peril. **2. **an instance or cause of peril; menace. **3. **_Obsolete _. power; jurisdiction; domain.

* * *

**Danger**

By the time I made it to work the next day, I was still no closer to sorting out the foggy mess of emotions than I had been when Edward left my house late yesterday evening. I really wanted to believe every word he said and forget about the way I found out about his history. My heart hurt for him and everything he had gone through when he was younger. After learning about his past, I kind of got where he was coming from; where all the anger and resentment came from, and even why he chose not to tell me.

Still, he should have told me before I had to find out the way I did. Even though I realized I barely had any kind of claim on him as it was, I had a feeling that whatever feelings were blooming between us, honesty and trust were going to need to be a huge part of it.

And that had been tarnished. Well…at least in part.

Deep down inside, I knew this whole mess wasn't so much about what Edward had done (or better yet: hadn't said) but about the whole 'Edward being in my life' thing. A part of me was so excited to finally figure out something about normal human relationships. It was the part that couldn't believe a guy like Edward would ever be interested in mousy, broken girl. The other piece, though? I was scared out of my wits of ending up hurt and broken yet again.

Just like before, only now I'd entered into it with both eyes open.

"Ugh!" I growled, pounding up the granite steps to the front entrance, wishing more than ever for a button that could just flash-forward to whatever moment in time when all of this trouble had been resolved and I could just go back to being blissfully alone in my own little bubble. Going out into the world and making real friends was starting to really screw with my mind.

Waving at the security guards whom I'd started getting to know personally over my days here at Volturi, I quickly made my way upstairs. I knew from a brief discussion with Jasper that a lot of stuff had come in from the van Leyden house the day before and I couldn't wait to get my hands on whatever little treasures were in the protective boxes I'd come to know so well throughout my research in archives.

It was like Tom Hanks had described it in Forrest Gump. Though instead of chocolates, we archivists dealt with papers and books stuffed in generic tan boxes made of special, acid free cardboard to protect the valuable items inside. Opening one of those boxes was like biting into one of Forrest Gump's chocolates: you never knew what was inside. It was what made it all the more exciting to actually lift the lid, breath in the musky smell of ancient paper and rifle your gloved hands through the contents, trying to take in as much as you could in as little time as possible to give you an idea of what you were up against before really diving in.

I lived for those moments, the adrenaline coursing through your frame as you took out the first portfolio and started drinking in words someone had written down ages ago and hadn't been seen by other eyes in God only knew how many years. Sometimes the words would be written in a neat, elegant script, other times in chicken scrawl that made it look like the whole document was written in Arabic instead of Latin alphabet and you'd spend hours deciphering their meaning.

A lot of people didn't get it but to me….it was what I lived for.

Besides, I could do with the distraction of losing myself in the history of others, even though the mystery surrounding Johannes van Leyden now seemed to be tangled up in my own mess of a personal life.

I smiled, my hand tentatively folding around the bottom of my little knapsack, the heaviness of Lady Amelia Cullen's diary carrying over into my heart as I remembered her words. I'd stayed up most of the night reading about her life and feeling sorry for the plight of that young woman. From the first pages of the diary I knew she'd lived a happy life in Scotland, though the money problems and the resentment it had caused between her mother and uncle were always lingering in the background.

It was such an easy life, or at least it sounded like it when I read about the long, sunny walks she took in the park surrounding Cullen House or the tea and dinner parties she and her mother attended. It might have become boring at one point, but it also seemed a whole lot less complicated than life in modern times could be.

She was cared for, and even though it went at the cost of her own personal feelings, I couldn't help but be envious of the ease with which her life had drifted on until her mother had come up to her room one day and dropped a bomb right on top of everything Amelia had taken for granted. _Yeah, I could definitely do without being pretty much sold off to the highest bidder!_

My heart had broken somewhere deep into my sleepless night, when I read about how much she tried to adapt to her new situation and willed herself to become at peace with her new circumstances, even when her heart was pining for another man; someone she knew she could never have.

It made me feel like such an idiot for losing sleep over my own puny problems when I knew that history was littered with many women like Amelia; girls who would have loved to have been in my position since it meant their hearts were actually free to fall in love with the men they wanted, instead of the ones their families had handpicked for them.

"Bella?" Jasper's voice sounded from behind a huge tan box. "Is that you?"

I chuckled, heading over to our twin desks that had been almost empty and organized a few days ago. Now, they looked like an archive had just exploded all over the place. "Looks like you need me."

"They brought this in about an hour ago." Finally managing to make eye-contact around all of the stacks, I could see Jasper was about one paper cut away from a complete nervous breakdown, his hair a wild mess around his head and his glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he went over shipping lists like they held the answer to all of life's questions. "Turns out the asshole wants to have all of Johannes' stuff out of the house today rather than tomorrow so he had a removal company come in and dump all of the boxes we were preparing for transport on our doorstep early this morning."

I gasped, knowing from the horror stories I'd read that this could only spell disaster. "No, he didn't!"

Jasper merely snorted derisively. "It was a good thing Esme decided to head over early or they would have just left all of this on the front steps," he cried. "I swear I caught the tail end of it all when I arrived and they were just shoving these boxes around like there was nothing but rags inside! If Esme hadn't been around I would have committed a felony…I swear." With that Jasper raised his hands to the heavens as if to beg for some sort of divine intervention.

"It's all here now, though," I tried calming him down, "and by the looks of it, those idiots didn't manage to do much harm to the docs." Most of the boxes looked okay, maybe a bit battered and bruised, but not so much so that we had to fear for the contents.

"Don't count your blessings yet," Jasper groaned. "Because they just pretty much dumped these boxes into the moving truck, everything's out of order. Hell, some of the boxes hadn't even been labeled yet!"

I sucked in a breath, knowing what this meant. In the archival world, inventory was everything. It was our only way to keep track of the millions of documents we were guarding and be able to find them in case we or someone else needed them. If the system failed, it would mean that hundreds of little treasures became lost.

Or at the very least it meant a whole lot of work; redoing all of our previous tasks.

"Besides," Jasper fumed on, "he wants all of Johannes' things out of the house by the end of this week, so we're going to have our work cut out even getting everything organized and ready to go before we can even think about righting this mess."

"This week?" I gasped. "But I thought you were weeks away from finishing inventory?"

"It's take it or leave it at this point," Jasper shrugged, smirking as his eyes flashed towards the boxes, lined against the wall. "And believe me, I can totally see that idiot just shoving all of his great-grandfather's possessions in a dumpster if they're not out of the study by Friday evening."

I cringed knowing from what he'd told me about James van Leyden, that Jasper was probably right. "So you said something about how 'we' had to go over there?" I could already feel the panic starting to rise. Remembering what both Jasper and Edward had told me about James van Leyden, his house was the last place I wanted to be, even if the great Johannes had lived there.

"I need you on site to help me or I'll never get this done in time." Jasper sighed, rubbing his face. "Apart from Bree, who had to take a personal day today, you're the only one who knows how I like the files to be organized."

"It's no problem," I lied, safely storing my purse in the designated desk drawer as I set to work. "What time do you want to go?"

We left just after noon, my lunch break filled with an awkward conversation over the phone with Rosalie, during which she pretty much strong-armed me into coming out to the bar near the community center with them. It turned out Mike and Tyler planned to be there as well. It was the one thing that swayed me to actually say yes, even when the prospect couldn't have been less appealing.

It had been so long since I'd seen Mike. Apart from a phone call the day after I'd arrived and a few random texts here and there, we hadn't really been in touch but I guessed that was probably because he was as busy with his own life as I was with mine.

"Do you and Alice want to tag along?" I asked Jasper as I filled him in on my plans. "I know it's short notice, but…"

"I'll see if she wants to go," Jasper beamed, still blushing profusely every time anyone so much as hinted to his newly blossoming relationship with Alice. "It sure beats watching television with my mom." His brow raised as he shot a sideways glance at me. "Is Edward coming too?"

Now it was my turn to blush. "I don't think so." After last night, I'd decided to give it a few days before I called him. I wasn't kidding when I told him I needed some time to clear my head and besides, I had a feeling that putting him in the same room with Rose would not bode well.

And come to think of it…as much as I liked Rose, I hated that she and Edward had been out on a date that one time. Even knowing what I did about the disastrous ending they'd had, it was still weird knowing she once thought about Edward like _that_.

"We're here," Jasper announced, pulling up in front of a building much like the one we'd visited yesterday; the same wealth and severity speaking from the tall façade as we walked up to the front door.

Except for the exterior, though, the contrast to yesterday's meeting with Carlisle Cullen couldn't have been any more different. Unlike then, the door was actually opened by the lady of the house herself; her haughty demeanor and sharp features immediately setting my body on high alarm as I reluctantly stepped foot inside the house.

"Don't worry," Jasper whispered as he guided the way, obviously much more at home in the van Leyden brownstone than I was, "she usually only hangs around for a minute or two before she gets bored."

"James told you we're in quite a rush to empty the room, right?" the woman interrupted us, her shrill voice sending shivers down my spine. "The contractors will be in there by next week so if the room's not empty…" Her eyes narrowed as she hovered in the doorway of what I assumed had been Johannes' study. "I'm expecting my husband home within the hour, so I'd advise you to make yourself available to answer his questions."

With that parting remark–spoken like she thought of us like her minions–she left us to solve the huge mess we encountered upon entering the room on our own.

"Fucking hell!" Jasper gasped, his eyes widening as he took in the disastrous state of the room. "They completely wrecked everything I've been working on." His face looked hopeless as he, like me, probably concluded that we weren't going to be anywhere near done on Friday. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Maybe we should salvage what can be saved and pack all of this up as carefully as possible," I suggested, even though it went against every single thing I'd been taught. "We can just do the inventory back at our office."

"I don't know…" Jasper sighed, probably running through the list of risks attached to such a scheme in his mind, just like I did. "But I guess the risks outweigh having those people…" His mouth was pursed in a disdainful line as he nudged towards the open door "…dump Johannes' legacy in the trash."

"To work then?" I suggested, my eyes once again traveling the room, this time with a more professional look as I tried to discern where Jasper was in the process of cataloguing and packing the items inside.

I could see he was just about done with the bookcases; a few books still dotting the otherwise empty shelves as the main chaos seemed to be converging through the double doors that separated the library from the study.

"They sold the piano, did you know that?" Jasper whispered, pointing at the huge open spot near the sliding doors. He continued as I shook my head. "Aro was furious when he found out since the agreement they made with the van Leydens stipulated that everything inside the study and the library was to be left as it was so that we could create an exact replica of the room."

I sighed, sensing the loss of the crown piece–the piano behind which every note of _The Land of Shadows_ had sprung to life. "What did he do?"

"What can he do?" Jasper shrugged, picking up a few documents that had fallen to the floor in the violence of that morning's removal company stunt. "James and Victoria know how much we want all of this so they know we're not about to walk away from preserving everything just because they've come up with a scheme to make even more money out of their famous ancestor's legacy."

I sighed, hating the money grabbing twerps even more than I already did. Being born into such a legacy…it was an honor I could only dream of. But if the state of the hallway and the few rooms that were visible as I walked in was anything to go on, they saw it more as a burden…or a potential cash cow. Apart from the study and the library which had been left as they were when Johannes had left it to fight in the name of his adopted country, every trace of the building's history had been stripped or plastered over in a way that felt almost iconoclastic.

Knowing we were up against the clock, though, I pushed my sleeves up, eager to get to work. "Do you want me to finish packing these books?" I asked while pointing at the final dozen or so books left behind.

"Huh?" Jasper looked up from the papers he'd been assembling as I ran my hand over a few of the spines, stopping on what looked like an old, leather-bound family bible. "No, they are the ones the van Leyden's want to keep so you can just band them together and set them aside for James to pick up when he gets here. Apparently some of them post such a huge emotional value to him that he cannot bear to part with them–meaning he just wants to see if he can squeeze more money out of us before he hands them over."

I nodded, quickly pulling on some white gloves as I set to work, following directions from Jasper as we tried to pack as many documents as we could, preserving them in their special containers to protect them during transport and storing them in moving boxes with as much organization as we could manage in the timeframe we were working in.

It was only after Jasper had stepped outside to take a call that I allowed myself to take a breather, brushing a few strands of hair out of my face as I sat back and looked around at all the hard work we'd put in. It was at that exact moment that I could feel that prickling sensation in the back of my head that you always get when you're being watched, the teasing remark about Jasper slacking off on the boss' time dying on my lips when I found not him but an unfamiliar face watching me from the doorway.

"Well, hello."

I gasped, my hand clutching my chest as I tensed up. How two friendly words could ever hold such a threatening undertone I would never know but in that moment, everything about this man and his creepy smile screamed 'danger' to me. A very familiar kind of danger…

"I-I'm sorry," I stammered without quite knowing what it was that I was apologizing for. "I didn't…"

"And who might you be?" he interrupted me; his cold, predator gaze zooming in on me as I wished like hell I'd picked out clothes that morning that would have made me blend in with the background a little bit more. _Oh, to be invisible! _

"I'm with Jasper," I managed to breathe, my body trembling with fear as he kept staring at me, his eyes commanding and petrifying as if they belonged to the Medusa. "I'm here to collect a few more boxes for the Institute…"

A faint smile crept onto his lips as he pushed away from the doorframe and started moving towards me. His smile was peculiar and the creepiest thing about him, I concluded as I stumbled backwards until I hit the solid oak of the cabinet. Rather than rendering him more appealing and likeable, there was something very sinister in it.

"Take whatever you like," he shrugged, taking another few steps towards me. "I'm not interested in any of this old shit."

"O-okay," I muttered. My body was rigid and locked with dread as I watched him approach me. The way he moved like a predator sneaking up on its prey, unnerved me and took me back to that time over three years ago when professor Banner had done the same.

I had to get out of there.

_Now_.

"I do, however want to get one thing straight," James continued, smiling once more as he took in my frightened state. It almost appeared as if he took pleasure in watching me squirm, my eyes flittering to the only exit, which was blocked by his towering frame. _Please, Jasper, come back quick! _

"I…don't…I," I shivered, pushing myself back against the bookcase as I tried to fight my tears.

"Shh," James cooed, a boney finger making contact with my cheek and slowly dragging over my skin as he continued to stare me down. "I have no intention of hurting you….at least, not if you promise to be a good girl and keep me updated on anything interesting you may come across while sorting through the old man's junk. Are we clear on that?"

Our bodies were so close that I could feel his exhale on my skin every time he took a breath, his eyes commanding me to speak while his finger continued its downward path to my breast. "Are. We. Clear?"

"Y-yes," I managed to stammer, trying with all my might not to faint or throw up.

"What's going on in here?" I breathed a huge sigh of relief when Jasper's angered voice spoke from the doorway; my body finally relaxing as I started to believe that history would not repeat itself–at least…not today. "Bella?"

James scowled at me as he took a small step back; his disappointment at being interrupted was plastered clearly on his face. "I was just getting an update from your colleague here," he answered in a coaxing voice. "No harm done."

With another menacing glare he finally stepped away, leaving me to pick up the pieces as I almost fell to the floor, my body boneless after having been so rigid with fear. "I'm sure you'll _let me know_, if I can be of any help," he added before finally leaving the room, the emphasis on his statement was not lost on me.

"Of course," Jasper answered in a half-growl before turning his attention to me. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I spoke, though as he watched while I went through the motions of one of the breathing and calming exercises my Dutch therapist had shown me, I had a feeling he wasn't actually believing me. "I…I think it may be better if I left…this place." I breathed. "It's almost time anyway and…"

"Of course," Jasper nodded, giving me a wide berth as I scrambled to collect my things and wrap up what I'd been doing before James happened upon me. "Hey…do you want me to excuse you from joining Rose and the others tonight? I'd get it if you don't feel up to going out now."

I didn't but at the same time, something was telling me that it might be the best thing for me if I did. After all, what had years of hiding done for me so far? "No need…I'll see you tonight?"

He nodded, his mouth in a tight line as he walked me to the door and away from danger, though it wasn't until I'd reached the safety of home that I finally allowed myself to draw in a shaky breath as my shoulders released some of their tension.

Being able to study Johannes' life in the place where he'd actually spent his last years–his most creative years–had been a dream coming true for me. It was only now, though, that I found out how high the cost of it would truly be.

* * *

_**Thoughts?**_


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

* * *

**Truth: **_**noun, **_**1. **the true or actual state of a matter: _He tried to find out the truth. _**2. **conformity with fact or reality; verity: _the truth of a statement. _**3. **a verified or indisputable fact, proposition, principle, or the like: m_athematical truths. _**4. **the state or character of being true. **5. **actuality or actual existence.

* * *

**Truth**

The sense of calmness came sooner than I expected.

I snorted, pulling on some fresh clothes, my hair still damp from the shower I took to wash my disgusting run in with James van Leyden off my skin. Maybe my shrink back in Leiden had been right after all; perhaps I did need to be exposed to human interaction more in order to become immune to it.

I had been right to think that going out tonight was a good thing.

Still, as I got ready for my night with my new friends, I couldn't help feeling slightly panicky. After the day I'd had it was hardly unexpected, especially since the whole ordeal had left me completely wiped and shaking. Part of me wanted nothing more than to crawl up on my sofa with Amelia's diary and unravel a few more bits of this tangled mess of history I found myself right in the middle of. Not that it was possible, by the way, since the diary was still locked up in my desk over at the institute and I was pretty sure Angela and Rose would come and get me if I didn't show up as planned. They weren't the kind of girls who'd take no for an answer, especially not when Rose had surmised more about me than I felt comfortable with her knowing.

Yet as much as I was dreading the night to come, I couldn't help but feel just a little bit excited about it too. Going out with friends was something that was strangely foreign to me, as I'd never been really close to people around me or a big partier. I was always the girl who sat in the quiet corner with her nose in a book while others were living it up. Besides, back home in Forks with me being the police chief's daughter pretty much barred me from any party that was going to have underage drinking or drug use.

Not that my dad would have let me go to those parties even if I'd been invited.

By the time I had made it to college, I was already so out of the loop on most of the things my peers did for fun that I didn't even bother trying to immerse myself in college life. I chose to be the awkward girl who stayed at home reading boring books than the socially awkward girl who sat alone in the corner all night during the party.

And then, of course, Banner happened.

I sighed, putting the finishing touches to my look. _That's as good as I'm going to get._ Looking back on it (with the help of my therapist, of course) I wondered if maybe my whole social awkwardness and isolation hadn't been the deciding factor for Banner to pick me. After all, the chances of getting caught or 'outed' were a lot smaller when you picked a girl who had no friends than when you picked one who was bound to engage in girl talk.

Following that line of thought, however, I couldn't help but think about the bold step I was taking tonight. Because if you followed that line of reasoning, taking the risk of going out and exposing myself to the hazards of the nightlife and the effects of my own social clumsiness would actually diminish the threats of men like Banner preying on me.

Now if only I knew which danger was worse…

Knowing I was would talk myself out of not going if I hung around the apartment for too long, I headed out; my feet had no trouble finding their way to the community center as my thoughts remained occupied by the events of the day. It wasn't until I found myself following a different sound than the cacophony of my own scrambled thoughts that I became aware of my surroundings again, the sweet, dulcet sounds of piano music leading me in like the whistle of the Pied Piper.

Taking up the same spot I'd been standing in only a little over a week before, I peeked through the window to see him; his back moving in time with his hands as they touched the black and white keys, bringing forth the soft tones of one of Satie's _Gymnopédies_ as his student listened in rapt fascination.

I smiled, my hand muffling the noise of my chuckles as that same student's face took on a look of slight horror when Edward moved aside, gesturing for him to take to the seat and reproduced the music he'd just played so flawlessly.

Yet listening to the student as he played, though it was a sight to behold, wasn't quite as magnificent as watching Edward listen; his eyes closed and his body relaxing against the back of his chair as his student set off in a surprisingly good rendition of the song. The way Edward's hands moved along, not just to the notes on the paper but also to the cadence and timbre of the song made me see for the first time how much he lived and breathed the music that he played. It was in every cell of his being, just like history was in mine.

What would it be like if he was on a stage? If this had been the Met and his audience was listening to one of his own compositions?

My emotions were still so jumbled when it came to him. A small piece of me was angry about the way he had kept his true name and heritage from me, and another part completely freaked out at the fact that he seemed to be somehow connected to the story of Amelia and Johannes. I hadn't been lying when I told him I needed some time to get to grips with what I'd found out, but with my meeting with Lauren Cullen–or 'Crazy Auntie Lola' as Edward had called her–set for the next afternoon, I knew my time was running out.

And I had to admit I was jumping for joy at the prospect of seeing him again, though I tried not to admit it. I recognized something in this man who couldn't have been more different from me if he tried. That was what scared me the most about him, because I was well aware that the feelings he brought out in me were so much like the ones you saw described in romance novels and movies.

Only mine were real.

"Bella?" I jumped as I heard Angela's voice behind me. My shocked look of guilt when she caught me staring at Edward was soon forgotten because she laughingly invited me to crash the Dutch class down the hall to peek in on my former students (and steal a couple of cookies) while we waited for Rose to finish her self-defense class.

And then we were off, mercifully managing to avoid a run-in with Edward as we made our way to the bar. My heart was hammering all the way there even though I'd been to the place before. Since I knew the establishment a little, which made it easier to walk in, my nerves faded a bit more as I spotted my new friends from work already seated in a large corner booth–though no table was quite large enough to hold the hulking shape of Emmett McCarty.

"Who's the giant?" Angela whispered as we walked in, Alice waving us towards them like she was directing in an airplane.

"He's Emmett, my boss' son," I quickly explained. "He sometimes drops by to meet his mom."

"Great!" Rose snorted next to me. "Another spoiled little rich brat! You sure know how to collect them, Bella."

"Emmett's not a brat, Rose," I muttered, feeling hugely uncomfortable with the sudden tension in the room. "I don't know him that well but Esme's really nice and from what I've seen of him, he's a great guy, too."

Rose merely harrumphed, her eyes still glaring at the table in front of us like Emmett had done something to personally offend her. "Well, he's from the wrong part of town as far as I'm concerned."

"I think he looks cute," Angela sighed beside me before breaking out into an embarrassed fit of giggles. "Not that I'm supposed to look at any other guy than my husband, of course!"

"Girl, if I were married to a geek like Ben, my eyes would wander too!" Rose teased before finally stalking forward to introduce herself to my coworkers, the introductions to Alice and Jasper going off a lot more smoothly than the cold 'hello' she spat in Emmett's general direction.

And as for Emmett, the poor guy looked just like Jasper had before he and Alice had finally jumped into the deep end. If I hadn't been feeling so sorry about his imminent disappointment, the look of teeny-bopper lovesickness would have been amusing. As it was, I merely settled on introducing Angela to the rest of the crowd and waiting for Emmett to scoot down his end of the booth to make space for Angela and me; which took a while, since he was still too busy staring at Rose.

"Emmett," Alice hissed, yanking him sideways in a way that had the poor guy almost face planting against the table as he grinned and finally scooted down, mumbling something unintelligible as Rose merely huffed and made sure her disdain was known.

I pursed my lips, not quite sure whether that was to keep me from laughing out loud or to keep in the panic as only five minutes into our evening out, things weren't going as planned.

"So," Angela started after we'd ordered our drinks, clearly trying to break the ice. "You guys work with Bella, right?"

"We do," Jasper answered, his arm causally slung around Alice's slender shoulders. "Though Emmett's still an undergrad at NYU who comes to visit his mommy sometimes." We all chuckled at the embarrassed look Emmett sported as he mumbled something about being a good son and taking care of his mom.

"Hey, Bella?" Alice chimed in, "I thought your boyfriend would be here tonight. What's up?"

As much as my heart hammered with happiness at hearing him being called my boyfriend, I could feel myself pale at being put on the spot like that. "It's…complicated," I finally hedged. "He…he had other stuff to do tonight."

The fact that my answer came out as a question didn't exactly help as four pairs of eyes (Jasper decided to cut me some slack and studiously studied the ceiling) settled on my face with keen interest. "You have a boyfriend?" It was Angela who spoke first, her eyes wide with excitement. "Do tell!"

"It's nothing really," I muttered, trying to stall for time by sipping on my drink. "We're not even boyfriend and girlfriend. We're just…friends?"

"Oh really?" Alice cooed. "Well, from where I was sitting, Edward wasn't exactly looking at you in a way I'd describe as _platonic_, though I guess he did look very _friendly_."

"Cut it out, Ally," Jasper whispered, flashing me an apologetic look of commiseration.

"Edward?" Rose sang, her irritation with rich boys in general–and Emmett in particular–apparently forgotten now that she'd found her next victim. _Me_.

"Yeah," Alice nods vigorously. "You should have been there. It was so romantic! This guy just showed up one day when we were getting ready to go out to lunch and just basically begged Bella to have coffee with him, even if it meant that Jazz and I would tag along to make her feel more comfortable."

Listening to Alice's account of what happened I wasn't sure whether I had to agree with her on the romance she'd alluded to, or smash my head against the table for being such a pathetic waste of space. It made me wish I'd opted for something alcoholic instead of Sprite. If I'd have known this was what my evening of fun was going to be about, I would have stayed at home.

"Wait a minute…"It was the first time Emmett spoke but his voice carried so much authority that the cackling of laughter at my expense immediately died down. "You're not talking about Edward Masen, are you?"

The worried look on his face as his blue eyes settled on me made my throat close up as I nodded. "Y-yeah?"

"Fuck, Bella!" He sighed, shaking his head as he looked at me sadly. "I don't want to shit on your happiness or anything but he's not the kind of guy a girl like you wants to hang out with."

"Well, what do you know?" Rose snorted. "Ritchie Rich and I actually agree on something. I mean…I told you about him, didn't I, Bella? He's bad news!"

"You went out on a date with him and it didn't work out," I countered, surprising even myself at the strength and vehemence in my voice. _Wow, I didn't know I had it in me!_ "That hardly makes him a criminal, Rose!"

"No, but half a dozen or so arrests for being drunk, disorderly and in possession of drugs will do the trick," Emmett argued his way back into the conversation, leaving my head spinning as I tried to catch up. Arrests? Edward had told me about having a slightly tumultuous past but he'd never spoken about anything like _that_. Emmett continued, "And if that doesn't convince you then how about the fact that he's spent the past couple of years ruining my mother's life? Or do you think she deserves that?"

I felt like the ground had been blown away from underneath my feet; the rest of the people occupying our booth–my friends–no longer existing as I begged him to explain. "W-what?"

"My mom and his dad have been in love for as long as I can remember," Emmett spoke, his voice a mixture of regret and barely veiled hatred, "but since Edward blames my mother for the death of his own mom a couple of years ago, his dad has been stringing my mom along and slowly breaking her heart because the coward won't risk losing a son who already hates him to commit to a woman who loves him more than anything."

I opened my mouth, wanting to defend Edward but finding myself unable to come up with a valid excuse.

Not that it deterred Emmett. "And since he's been arrested–again–on charges of possession and dealing, his dad is thinking about bailing altogether because he can't risk losing his good-for-nothing, son of a bitch offspring over the best thing that's ever happened in his life!" Emmett's tone was mocking, though his eyes held fire as he spat out the words.

I blinked, trying to appear emotionless because I knew I would only embarrass myself; not that I wasn't well underway to doing just that as I excused myself and made it out of the bar like my ass was on fire. My head wasn't anywhere near a place where I would worry about stuff like that, though.

No, the only thing occupying my thoughts was the fact that for the second time in almost as many days, I'd found out that Edward had been keeping important stuff about his past hidden from me. Up to the point where I was really starting to wonder whether or not I knew him at all.

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_**Thoughts?**_


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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_**This story would be nothing without my amazing beta-team, Jadsmama and Ladysharkey1.**_

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**Square One: **_**noun **_a starting point; initial stage or step: _If this plan fails, we'll have to go back to square one._

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**Square One**

I was so far out of my fucking depth it wasn't even funny anymore.

I smirked at a few old ladies coming out of the subway station as I moved aside to let them pass, their giggles and really fucking awkward looks made me want to shower. _What the ever-loving fuck? _Women that old weren't supposed to give you those kinds of looks. It was just…wrong.

"Are you okay?" Bella gave me this really weird fucking look and in spite of her kind words I could see something had shifted in her. Something that made me wonder if she really gave two shits about whether or not I was okay.

"Yeah," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck as I tried to figure out what the hell I'd done to mess up this time. "You?"

"Fine," she muttered back in that fucking monotone voice girls use when they are anything _except _okay but don't want you to stick your fucking nose into all the reasons they aren't. "Let's just do this."

_Okaaay_. I arched my brow, watching as she marched forward with quickly.

It wasn't until we reached the entrance of the Esplanade retirement home that one of us spoke again; the look on her face when I grabbed her arm to stop her because I was too out of breath from keeping up with her to actually speak for a whole thirty seconds. "What?"

"I…I feel like I should warn you," I wheezed, wishing Tanya had been more adamant when she'd invited me to tag along on her morning runs. "My aunt…there's a reason we all call her _Crazy Lola_."

"Yeah?" For the first time, I saw something of the Bella I'd left behind at her apartment the day before yesterday. _Wait…this couldn't still be about that, could it?_

Knowing that I would probably open up a whole different can of worms, I merely settled on explaining myself. "She was married to Amelia's brother, Frederick, my great-great-uncle, and it was quite the scandal, actually, since she was barely eighteen when they tied the knot and he was quickly closing in on his sixties. He had only been a widower for a couple of months. Hell, they were married only about five years or so before my dad was born."

"Which would make your granddad…what, about the same age as her?" I could see that I finally had her attention for the first time that day; the wheels in her head visibly spinning as her eyes held me spellbound.

"Quite a lot older actually, since he didn't marry before the age of thirty-four." I grinned, shaking my head at the antics of my long deceased ancestors. "It's actually a good thing that old Freddie robbed the cradle because it means you have someone to talk to who has her information straight from the horse's mouth."

"As long as the horse is willing to talk," Bella muttered, side-eying a small gathering of elders as they made their way into the building. "Or the source still has all her ducks in a row."

"Oh, don't worry about that," I chuckled as I guided her inside and towards the elevators. "Aunt Lauren might be nuts but she's definitely not senile." I pressed the call button, watching the numbers go down as one of the elevators made its way towards us. "Besides, if there's anyone who can get a man to speak, it's her. As far as family gossip goes…she knows it all."

"Good for us," Bella muttered, moving in as the elevator doors opened and taking up a spot as far away from me as the confined space allowed.

I growled, already fed up with her distant behavior. Moving towards her through the crowd of old people stuck in the cramped space with us, I was met with an icy glare as she tried to scoot even further into her corner. "What did I do wrong, Bella?" I whispered, obeying her silent demand for space. "Is this still about the other night?"

For a moment her eyes made contact with mine and the amount of fear, pain and doubt I saw in them killed me more than if she would have just smashed her fist into my face because I knew I was to blame for all that shit. "Not now," she merely spoke before averting her eyes again.

"Later, then?" I pressed as I started to feel like this whole thing was slipping right out of my fucking hands.

She sighed, looking all kinds of annoyed even though she did commit to a grumpy, "Later."

Well, at least that was something.

The corridor that housed Aunt Lauren's apartment still had that same, mauve and beige appearance that was meant to radiate opulence but really just started getting on your nerves the minute you stepped inside. And we hadn't even reached Lola's place.

"She's a cat lady," I warned Bella as we stood in front of her door. "But probably not the way you expect…"

I didn't have time to explain further before the door swung open and Lauren's small frame came into view; her face hidden by huge glasses and her body clad in that same cacophony of colors that had always made her stick out at family gatherings. With her sharp hawk-like Arian features, she breathed a strange mixture of one part freaky gypsy lady, one part Nazi camp commander.

And people still wondered why we called her 'crazy'.

"Edward!" she cooed, her arms still surprisingly strong as she crushed me into an unwanted hug. "Why does it always take so long before you visit me?" The sharp sting of her hand as she smacked my right in the cheek made me blink in shock. _Fuck me, the crazy broad just fucking bitch-slapped me! _"Your father and little Petey come over almost every week, like good nephews should and even Garrett and Molly are good about visiting their poor old auntie every now and then, but you…"

Her eyes narrowed, causing me to take a step backwards in case the crazy old bat wanted to go in for seconds. "I-I'm sorry?"

"Hmm," she huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest as her eyes swept over to Bella. "And you bring a guest?"

Glancing sideways at my girl, I could see she was equal parts scared and amused by the certifiable old hag standing in front of her. Bella's hand trembled as she proffered it for Lauren to shake. "I'm Bella Swan, a historian interested in your late sister in law? I believe Doctor Cullen has spoken to you about me?"

"Ah, yes!" And just like that, Aunt Lauren's eyes began to shine as she motioned for us both to step inside. "You're the young girl interested in the family history, unlike some members of this family…" She leveled me with another furious glare as she tugged at Bella's sleeve, dragging her inside her lair like a sacrificial maiden. "Come in, come in."

I could see the exact moment Bella's eyes first fell on my great-grandmother's 'pets', her movements stopped as her whole frame went rigid. It was the same reaction everyone had stepping inside Crazy Lola's home for the first time. And who wouldn't when the beady eyes of twenty mounted cats looked at you from just about every flat surface in the house? It was probably the fucking Valhalla of every taxidermist in America, but to the rest of us it was just plain old fucking creepy.

"You never told me about the cats," Bella hissed, trying desperately to keep her face in check and not look at the creepy felines.

"I tried," I defended myself as I took a seat next to her on the sofa while Aunt Lauren sat down in her own, comfortable lounge chair, patting the head of one of the cats sitting on the side table next to her seat. _Fucking psycho!_ "_You_ were the one who didn't want to talk, remember?"

And because she knew I was right, she merely huffed in that way chicks huff when they want to let you know you'd better watch your balls because they're gonna get you one way or another. "Thank you so much for agreeing to speak to me, Mrs. Cullen," she spoke, turning to the woman with a plastered smile on her face.

And damn if it didn't make me jealous as hell!

"It's my pleasure, dear," Crazy Lola answered. "Do you want some tea before we start, or jump right in?"

Bella took one look at the small kitchenette that had stuffed cats lining the counters and decided to skip refreshments—which, since the old lady never offered me anything, meant we'd be going without.

"Before we start I should give you a warning," Lauren stated, her eyes already had that glassy distant look I remembered them getting whenever she spoke about our family's history; which was a lot. "As much as I've heard about her, I never really met Amelia, seeing as I wasn't even born the year she died."

"She died during childbirth, didn't she?" Bella asked, her fingers setting her iPhone to begin recording. "In 1918, correct?"

Lauren nodded pensively. "It was only a couple of weeks after her husband had left for France." Her face scrunched up at the mention of the man I'd only heard describe as 'vile' by members of my family. "Of course Henry didn't care that after her disastrous delivery of little Edward, the doctor had warned them that a second pregnancy would be considered a very great risk. No, he had to have everything the way he wanted–with a nice safe 'spare' in case something happened to his 'heir'. He didn't even bother to stick around and support his wife." Lauren shook her head; her despise for the man as clear as day. "No, he had to go off and fight while he could still earn some of the glory on the battlefield."

"You don't think he took up arms for more patriotic reasons?" Bella wondered, her bottom lip sucked in between her teeth as she soaked up all of Lauren's words like a sponge.

"Psha!" Lauren huffed. "From what I gathered, Henry Blake didn't have a patriotic bone in his body! The only reason he enlisted was because he thought it would reflect well on his image to return home as a war hero. It was just his bad luck that he found himself on the wrong end of a German rifle somewhere near Thiérache, two days before Amistice."

"Bad luck, or maybe just Karma catching up with him," I snorted, Lauren's cold blue eyes immediately settling upon me.

"Perhaps," she mused, "though I have always found it strange that a man who seemed to have been able to buy off every single risk he had encountered–including during his short-lived military career–would have ended up right in the middle of the frontline. Something about his death never added up as far as I was concerned." She tapped her lips, a conspiratorial smile lacing her lips. "Not that his death was ever discussed in detail between Freddie and me. In fact, Frederick hardly ever spoke about his own military life or the years that preceded it."

"But you know about Amelia?" Bella subtly tried to steer the conversation back in order.

"Oh definitely," Lauren nodded eagerly. "My Freddie was by her side until the end. You see, he had already done his part for his country but he got wounded at the Somme and was sent home before Henry Blake even set sail. She was right there by her side until Amelia passed." Lauren leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with the happiness only a good piece of family gossip could bring. "I think that's when she convinced him to take custody of the boy."

"Edward?" Bella confirmed.

Lauren nodded. "Frederick would never speak of it but I always had my doubts about that baby. Not that Amelia had ever stepped so far out of line that she caused a scandal but, apparently, there was some talk about her and some artist doing the rounds right before she married Blake. And, of course, there's the fact that the Blake family never put up a fight for the boy even though he was the only one to carry on the line, since Amelia's second child was stillborn."

Bella and I shared a look of shocked excitement, her eyes widening as she added two and two together in her mind. "So you think Edward wasn't really Henry Blake's son?"

Lauren shrugged, her wrinkly old hands folded underneath her chin as she slowly and carefully shifted back in her seat. "There's no evidence, of course, but what other explanation could there be? I think Fred and his mom must have something on the Blake's as well, though, since they never claimed their money back or even spoke of the matter ever again for as far as I can remember. The whole affair just died out, until nobody even remembered the strange adoption case anymore."

At the 'no evidence' Bella's face fell and I could imagine why. I mean, to us that was a really fucking big thing. I mean, I might actually be related to one of the greatest modern composers of all time. I wasn't stupid enough to think that our deductions meant anything in the scientific and historical worlds. Nope, those people usually really got off on stuff like evidence and facts.

"I know where you may be able to get some proof, though." We both looked up as the crazy old bat spoke again. "As much as Frederick held his tongue about what happened back in those days, I know he was in contact with Amelia's old ladies maid or her family for some time because when they read his will after my darling Freddie died, he left quite a little sum of his money them…the Casey family I think they were called."

"Do you know where they live?" Bella asked, perking up again at finding a new lead.

Lauren shook her head, smiling sadly. "But I think there might be a mention of their address on the will, which should be in your father's possession." She nodded at me, acknowledging me voluntarily for the first time. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be fucking happy about that.

Soon after, just as I was trying to think of some polite excuse to make our escape, a nurse came in to hand over Lauren's afternoon medication, and Bella was apparently as eager as I was to get away from the crazy lady and all of her dead cats. As much as I hated those little rat-catchers when they were alive, they were even worse when they were dead…and still looking at me.

"So, that was…interesting," Bella muttered once we were on the safe side of Lauren's front door again.

"That's one way to put it," I nodded, too set on finally finding out what the hell was the matter with her to go into the whole revelation part of our afternoon. Even if I was still coming to grips with the potential consequences of everything I'd heard.

"I still can't get over the 'how', though," she continued to mutter, her thoughts far, far away as we stumbled over to the elevator. "I mean…she wrote him that letter and it couldn't have happened before that. And in the letter…Amelia ended things with Johannes."

"They must have found a way to meet after she sent it," I shrugged impatiently. "So do you want to tell me what the hell I did wrong?" I knew it wasn't the most sensitive way to go about this whole thing but I had to know. I mean…I was going fucking crazy from trying to figure it out.

"Outside," she snapped, her hostility back in force as we silently rode the elevator and jogged–well, I did–towards a small patch of grass across the street from the retirement home when she sat down on a park bench and I just stood there awkwardly in front of her until she motioned for me to sit.

And then proceeded to drop a bomb on me.

"Were you ever going to tell me about your legal history?" she questioned; her eyes on fire with betrayal and anger. "Or enlighten me about the fact that you were arrested recently and are facing charges of drug dealing right now?"

Shit.

I hung my head, ashamed. "I was going to tell you," I started, not realizing it was the goddamn truth until the words were out of my mouth, "but I knew how you'd feel about this so…_motherfuck_!" I grabbed my hair, knowing it was probably going to be the last conversation I had with her. "I knew I stood a good chance of losing you once you found out just how much of a fuck-up I am, so…"

"So you left me in the dark," she snarled, "and by that you made me look like a total idiot when my friends found out I was dating a drug-dealer! I defended you, for God's sake!"

The brief elation at having her describe us as dating deflated at the rest of her words. "For what it's worth: I didn't do it," I muttered, not daring to look at her for fear of what I'd see, even if that made me a complete fucking pussy. "I do drugs sometimes and, hell, I'd be the first to admit that I ran with the wrong fucking crowd for a while, but I never sold that shit. I…" I looked up, finally finding the balls to look into her eyes because I knew she had to see where I was coming from with this. "The only thing I was interested in fucking up was my own life, never that of others. Until I met you…"

She met my stare, her eyes first hard and challenging before they softened, mirroring my own helplessness as she visibly struggled with herself. "I can't…I don't know what to do anymore. I…I like you, you know I do…but I don't know if I can live with the things you've done."

I nodded. "I understand." I got up from the bench knowing that if I sat there for much longer and allowed her to really stick that fucking knife into me, I was going to lose my shit even more than I already was. "I won't bother you again if you don't want me," I muttered, holding onto a l final bit of hope that she might turn around because–as frail as she sometimes seemed, my girl was fierce like a fucking lion when she wanted. "You have my number if you change your mind."

I didn't look back as I walked away from her. Not because I didn't want to—because God knew I did —but because I just…couldn't.

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_**It might sound strange but this is actually a good thing.**_

_**Thoughts?**_


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